Making Things Right
by UndercoverSquint
Summary: Brennan's ex may have been dealt with, but BB will definitely be working through lots of challenges this time around. This story covers all of S2 and a little beyond. Rated M for language and smut. Complete! Part 2 of 3.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back, baby! First and foremost, I have to give a shout to my wonderfully awesome friend chosenname. She's been proofing for me, helping me iron out the kinks in my plot, and providing some really great insight. She's also responsible for the title of the next installment after this, which I like even better than the two that I chose myself. :) Thanks, lady - you're the best!**

 **So, let's see... This one picks up with the season 2 opener, which takes place in early September. The last story ended around mid-June, so we have a bit of a time jump. I know a lot of people are really looking forward to this story, so please, pretty please review and let me know if the first chapter lived up to your expectations. :) Also, if you're just stumbling upon my writing, you should really start with the first installment of this series: Right from the Start. Otherwise, you'll be pretty lost.**

 **Oh, and I opted for faster updates and chapters in the 6K word range. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 1

As much as his girlfriend might like to call him a Luddite, Special Agent Seeley Booth was as dependent on his cell phone as anyone else in the digital age. Though it had been his idea to turn off their phones for the duration of their stay in North Carolina, he had to admit that it had made him feel a little cut off from the world. He'd been eternally thankful that Russ Brennan didn't seem to share his sister's aversion to possessing a television; at least Booth was still up to date on his sports teams.

They'd provided Rebecca and Angela with Russ's number for emergencies, but thankfully none had come up. Booth had a feeling it would most likely be the last time they'd get away with a nearly complete disconnect from their jobs. Not long before they'd left DC, he'd been informed of a promotion coming his way thanks to his work in the Devon Marshall case. Apparently, exposing a multi-level military conspiracy was enough to draw the attention of more than one person up the food chain at the FBI. He was now _Seeley Booth, Special Agent in Charge_ , and he was to head up the Major Crimes division in the DC field office. It meant a significant pay increase and, if he'd wanted it, a bigger office. He'd turned that part of the offer down, however, electing to remain in close proximity with the agents who worked under him.

He and Brennan had had a busy summer. Almost immediately after they'd agreed to move in together officially, Brennan had gotten in touch with a real estate agent, and after a surprisingly small amount of bickering over the financial details, the couple had agreed on a price range. Booth had wanted to split everything fifty-fifty, but there were things on Brennan's wish list that came at a higher price than Booth could afford. In the end, they'd settled for proportionate contributions: each of them would put thirty percent of their income and savings toward their new home. Booth had grumbled a little, but in the end he'd decided that it was more important to him that she was as happy as possible with their new home-and that she felt safe there.

Brennan's kidnapping had taken its toll on her psychologically, and if Booth were being honest with himself, he'd have to admit that he was still having some difficulty as well. It had taken her a solid month to stop having regular nightmares about her experience; Booth was still having them. Brennan had wanted to go back to work after a week, but Booth had been able to talk her into waiting two weeks instead. He'd also insisted on driving her to the lab and walking her in and out each day. Booth had been surprised when she hadn't argued with him on that point, until he'd realized that parking garages were sending her anxiety levels through the roof.

Their new home was an actual house with a private garage and a security system, and that had been something on which neither of them had been willing to negotiate. As much as they both might wish to move on from her kidnapping, it had still played a factor in their house hunting. When Booth had realized the price range she was using to find their house, he had been a little worried that they might end up in something far too large and grandiose for his tastes. However, she had surprised him by falling in love with a 1920's era house with a great deal of character and charm. Their new home was located in an older but very safe neighborhood near Rock Creek Park, and the lot was surrounded by mature trees that offered a great deal of privacy. The yard was fenced and boasted a moderately-sized swimming pool, which Parker had been particularly excited about. There were four bedrooms, an office for Brennan, a 'man-cave' for Booth, and even an additional rec room in the basement that could serve as small gym.

They'd closed on the house right after Parker's fifth birthday in mid-July, but it had taken them several weeks to complete the move, even with help from their friends. Brennan's second book, Cross Bones, had been published in July as well, and her publicity schedule had been very full for the few weeks that followed. Booth had insisted on coming with her to each signing, and he'd watched with pride as she seemed to handle each successive interview a little better than the last.

Once they'd finally gotten settled in their new home, Brennan had agreed to take her brother up on his invitation to spend a couple of weeks with him in North Carolina. Her kidnapping, along with everything else that had come up during the summer months, had necessitated a delay in their plans until late August, after Parker had started kindergarten. Booth had hoped that Brennan would use the time to simply relax, recover more fully from her ordeal, and enjoy the beach with him. Though she did her best to accomplish those things, Brennan managed to complete her third novel as well. Red Tape, White Bones was tentatively scheduled to be released in March of the following year.

The plan to turn off their cell phones for two weeks had been part of Booth's efforts to get his girlfriend to rest and finally take a _real_ vacation. He was pleased that it seemed to have worked for the most part. She had reconnected with her brother, gotten to know his girlfriend and her daughters, and was looking more at peace with herself than she had in months.

The drive home from North Carolina had been long, and his back had ached a little as he'd pulled the SUV into the garage. Brennan had slept for the first half of the trip and had spent the rest of it doing her best to torment him with her wandering hands. Although they'd shared the guest room at Russ's place, there hadn't been the kind of privacy Booth had hoped for-particularly when he'd gotten an eyeful of the skimpy bikini Brennan had packed. She'd been frustrated with the need to keep their voices down, and by the time they'd walked through their front door, she'd been so eager to release her pent up energy that she'd begun to strip her clothes off before Booth had even closed the door behind them.

They'd made love with an almost desperate passion, each of them taking full advantage of the freedom to be as vocal as they liked. Their clothing had been scattered around the main level as they moved through each room, stopping at one wall or another, then a bare space of kitchen countertop, until they'd finally collapsed on the living room sofa. By the time Booth had coaxed her upstairs to get some sleep, they'd been home for over an hour.

As he watched Brennan get ready for bed, he noted the tan lines her bathing suit had left behind and was happy to note that her bruises had healed. Booth was still struggling a bit with his guilt, but he was dealing with it as well as he could. Brennan did her best to soothe him with logic, but while he appreciated her efforts, it didn't always work.

Booth blamed the multiple distractions for his belated realization that their phones were still turned off, and although it was late, he powered his back on to check his messages. It was a good idea to know what he'd be walking into the next morning at work. Less than sixty seconds after he'd turned the thing back on, it was ringing loudly, and he scowled at the caller ID. _Seriously?_

"Booth," he answered cautiously. Brennan watched his expression shift to chagrin as he listened to the voice on the other end. She raised her brows questioningly, and Booth's answer was to throw off the blankets and locate some clean clothes. _Crime scene_ , she thought, copying his movements. She watched him shrug into a dark t-shirt and his green canvas jacket, and she had to admit that the ensemble was pleasing, even if she did tend to prefer him naked.

"Yes, Dr. Brennan is with me. Her phone is turned off; sorry about that. I'll bring her." Their relationship was common knowledge at the Hoover as well as the Jeffersonian, and their colleagues knew that one could always be reached via the other. At his words, Brennan's eyes widened in surprise that she'd forgotten about her phone. Returning what would undoubtedly be dozens, if not hundreds, of emails and messages was a daunting prospect, and as soon as she had redressed, she grabbed her blackberry and pressed the power key.

Booth finished his phone call and followed Brennan back downstairs to locate his shoes. He grumbled a little as he pulled them back on, having been very happy to have taken them off not long ago. He watched as she searched the living room and kitchen floors for her jacket, admiring the low-cut crimson top she'd chosen. Booth was glad they'd 'satisfied their biological urges' before turning their phones back on, or else this could have been a really long night.

"Where is it?" Brennan asked, checking the contents of her bag quickly and heading toward the garage.

"Not far, but let's hurry. I don't know how long they'd been trying to get a hold of us."

"I can't believe we forgot to turn our phones on till now… What if the FBI techs have compromised evidence?" They slammed their doors shut, and Brennan buckled her seatbelt as he pulled the SUV out of the garage and backed down the driveway.

"I'm hurrying, Bones," he assured her as he flipped on the lights and siren. "You know, we might have remembered the phones earlier if _someone_ hadn't been so keen to have her way with me the second we walked through the door," he teased her.

"Those sounds you were making didn't sound like complaints," she replied smugly. He chuckled back, not disagreeing. Brennan scrolled through her unread emails until one of them caught her attention rather abruptly.

"I have a new boss?" she said, shocked.

"Really? I didn't hear anything. What happened to Goodman?" Booth watched her scowl grow more pronounced as she read the email.

"I knew he was considering a reorganization, particularly to set up forensics as its own department, but I had no idea it was happening so soon. I've got a new boss I've never even heard of, and since I don't even recognize her name, I highly doubt she's qualified. Why didn't Goodman ask me to take over forensics?"

"Well…" he hesitated, having a pretty good idea why Goodman hadn't offered her the job and valuing his life too greatly to say it out loud. "Who's the new person?"

"A Dr. Camille Saroyan. I've never heard of her…"

Booth looked at her sharply, surprise altering his handsome features.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Do _you_ know her?"

"Yeah, that's Cam. I told you about her."

Brennan thought back to that conversation. They'd been together for over eight months now, and they had shared many details of their pasts with one another. She recalled that Booth had met 'Cam' in college, and they had been what Angela would call 'friends with occasional benefits' for a time. Although they were nothing more than friends now, Brennan was a little uncertain at the prospect of having this woman as a supervisor.

"You never told me her last name," she remarked distractedly. Booth could read the anxiety in her expression and sought to reassure her.

"It'll be okay, Bones. You'll like her." _At least I hope you will._

"Really?"

"Well… no, probably not. But she'll grow on you."

"That's unlikely; women's bones stop growing around age twenty-"

"It's a figure of speech, Bones. I meant that you'll like her _eventually_." He glanced at her, noting that she didn't look at all reassured. "You know, I don't know if I mentioned it before, but Cam was actually the one who suggested that I consult with you on the Gemma Arrington case."

"No, you didn't mention it." Brennan was now even more ambivalent. As much as she disliked the idea of having to work with someone new who wouldn't know how things worked in the lab, she also didn't want to imagine her life without Booth in it. She supposed she should be grateful to this unknown woman, but Brennan was still offended that she wasn't approached about the position.

Booth was silent as they drove nearer to the crime scene. He was surprised that Cam hadn't told him she would be coming to work with them. They didn't speak often these days, but he knew that she was aware of his position as liaison to the Medico-Legal lab. He'd have thought that something like this would have at least warranted an email. Although it was possible that she _had_ emailed him while they'd been on vacation.

"Everything will be fine, Bones. Cam is very competent, and I'm sure she'll be up to the job." Brennan pursed her lips doubtfully but didn't reply.

 _Oh boy_ , he thought nervously. _She's got her game face on._

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They arrived at the scene of a derailed passenger train, and Brennan pulled her hair into a ponytail as they walked toward the wreckage. The fire department was still working to extinguish the flames that engulfed one of the passenger cars, and emergency personnel scurried about, recovering injured passengers as well as dead bodies.

A thin, attractive woman emerged from a piece of wreckage holding a severed arm and shouting to an EMT that the owner of the arm would bleed out in ten minutes if they didn't locate him. She addressed the paramedic by his first name and set the timer on the watch still strapped around the wrist of the arm.

"Seeley," she greeted him with a smile. Her warm tone made Brennan's eyes narrow.

"Camille," Booth replied staunchly

"Don't call me Camille."

"Don't call me Seeley. This is Dr. Temperance Brennan. Bones, this is Dr. Camille Saroyan."

"Cam," she corrected. "Or Dr. Saroyan is fine too." The two women sized each other up briefly, and Booth felt the tension level rise another few degrees. _Uh-oh_. "Dr. Brennan, I'd like you to check out the automobile this train hit. It's probably what caused the derailment."

"Accidental?" Booth asked as Brennan watched her new boss wrap gauze around the bloody portion of the arm she was still holding.

"NTSB guy says the train struck the car at least two hundred yards from the nearest access."

"Deliberate," Booth surmised.

"Probably suicide," Cam suggested, calling over her shoulder again to the EMT whom she'd charged with finding the owner of the severed arm. "Why are you still here, Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan bristled at her presumptive tone and replied coolly, "Because I'm not a coroner."

"The remains in the vehicle are badly burned," Cam explained. As she began to walk away, she glanced back at Booth and said, "You look good out of your suit, Seeley. But then, you always did."

Brennan's eyes widened at her forwardness, and Booth shifted uncomfortably beside her.

"Yeah, that's…great to have you back in DC, Camille." He brushed a hand over the back of his neck and eyed Brennan's irritated expression.

"One minute she's holding a severed arm, the next, she's _hitting on you_." Brennan tried to maintain an apathetic tone, but Booth was undeceived and tried to soothe her.

"No, she wasn't hitting on me. Come on, let's go make sure no one's compromised your remains…"

Brennan scowled but followed him to the charred vehicle that had been struck by the train. She had become accustomed to the fact that their relationship was out in the open, and as such, most of the women they encountered at work no longer stared hungrily after her boyfriend. This was not to say that she didn't still notice him being checked out now and then-he _was_ exceptionally well-structured, after all. It was to be expected. But the sight of her new boss eyeing him with such appreciation and speaking to him so brazenly had taken her by surprise. It was not a pleasant sensation.

"May I approach?" she asked a firefighter who was examining the vehicle.

"All yours, Dr. Brandon."

" _Brennan_. Dr. Brennan."

"You want to guess my name?"

"No, but there are thousands of you in DC and only one of me," she replied, leaning into the car with her flashlight. Booth winced at her lack of tact and watched the firefighter shake his head derisively as he walked away. He pulled his note cards and pen from his pocket and waited patiently while she began her preliminary exam. Her frustration seemed to radiate from her body in waves, and Booth sighed inwardly.

This was going to be a long case.

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"Come on, Bones, let's go back home and get a few hours' sleep. The techs will get everything to the lab, and you can start fresh in the morning."

"No, I need to go in for a while. You can always drop me off and go back home if you want," she offered. She'd heard Cam say that she was headed back to the lab with the bodies of several victims, one of whom had been a senator. There was no way Brennan was going home yet.

"I'll think about it," he hedged. "Probably just crash in your office." Brennan had slept for a good portion of their drive back from North Carolina, but the fatigue from driving as well as their exertions when they'd gotten home had left Booth exhausted.

Brennan made for the platform immediately, and Booth had been on his way to her office couch when Cam intercepted him. She wanted to catch up. _Great_.

"I'm surprised you didn't tell me you were coming to work here, Cam."

"Well, I did try, actually. I emailed you, but I got your out-of-office reply. Your phone went straight to voicemail too, so I figured I'd just surprise you," she replied with a twinkling smile. Booth felt a little guilty for assuming she'd been intentionally deceitful, but he stiffened slightly when she touched his arm.

"Yeah, I was on vacation and turned my phone off," he answered, inching away from her. "When I turned it back on earlier, I got the call for the crime scene before I could get through my messages."

"For someone who just got back from vacation, you look pretty tired, Seeley."

"It was a long drive. Look, can we catch up later?" Booth could see Brennan eyeing them speculatively from the platform, and he didn't want Cam's demeanor toward him to add to her present irritation.

"Sure," Cam replied easily. They joined the others on the platform, and Brennan did her best to keep her eyes on the remains. She wondered irritably if this Dr. Saroyan was completely dense. Even Brennan had been able to read Booth's discomfort with her familiarity, and he'd been a good twenty feet away.

The entire team was present despite the lateness of the hour, and as much as Booth wanted to close his eyes for a while, he figured that if the squints were burning the midnight oil, he probably should as well.

"Okay, what have we got?" Booth asked in his usual manner, tucking his access card back into his pocket. Zack spoke up first.

"Male. Forties. Approximately six-foot-seven, right handed."

" _Six-foot-seven?"_ He turned a monitor toward himself to have a look, but Brennan swatted at him gently and moved it back.

"Athlete in his youth; worn shoulders from repetitive motion," she added.

"Baseball pitcher maybe?"

"More like a-" she made an upward arc with her hands.

"Basketball," Zack and Booth said in unison.

"At six-foot-seven, it makes sense," Angela agreed.

"Every bone in his body is broken," Zack commented.

"Dude, he got hit by a train." Hodgins joined the conversation and indicated the partially melted ID bracelet they'd removed from the victim. Three letters, W-A-R, and a romantic inscription from a woman named Brianna were all he needed to make a presumptive ID. "This is _Warren Lynch_."

"Who's Warren Lynch?" Zack and Brennan echoed the name together in confusion.

"No way," Booth answered in disbelief. _Damn,_ he thought, losing track of the conversation for a moment. _This would be a high profile case. A headache, potentially a media nightmare. Please be a suicide, please be a suicide._

"It wasn't a suicide," Brennan announced. Zack supported her finding.

"The jagged edges to the breaks, small fragments, lack of circular or radiating fractures or adherent spurs…"

"What does that mean?" Cam asked. Brennan tried not to smirk at the woman's ignorance as she answered.

"This man was dead for several hours before the train hit him."

Cam gazed at the remains with pursed lips for a moment and left to make a few phone calls. Brennan's eyes followed her momentarily before coming back to rest upon Booth, and she sighed ruefully. Everything about him screamed _exhausted_. She gave him a sad little smile and jerked her chin slightly in the direction of her office. He nodded and returned her smile with warm affection before ambling back down the steps.

Her office couch was more comfortable than the one she'd had at her old apartment: something that had always bothered Booth a little. It was as though she had intentionally selected furniture in opposition to the norm. Wasn't the more comfortable sofa supposed to be at home? Not long after they'd become partners, he realized that she'd done exactly that. She had felt more at home here in the lab than she had in her own apartment.

 _At least that's how it_ used _to be_ , Booth thought with a confident grin as he stretched out across the cushions. Sleep found him quickly, and it was several hours before the silence of her office was interrupted.

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Brennan's mood had not improved as the night wore on. After a few more hours of analysis, Cam had instructed them all to go home and sleep but to return by ten a.m. the following morning. Technically it was _already_ morning, and Brennan's own exhaustion was wearing on her. Hodgins followed her as she made her way toward her office.

"You should be okay with Dr. Saroyan getting the Head of Forensics job," he announced once they were inside. Booth's eyes remained closed, though he was certainly no longer asleep, and he listened curiously to what the man had to say.

"Why is that?" Brennan replied.

"Because you are a strictly rubber-to-the-road, hardball scientist. Not a flesh-pressing, ink-stained, policy-making...wanktard." Brennan features twisted in confusion at the word, and she kept her eyes on her desk as she shuffled a few files around.

"What are her qualifications?"

"Chief Coroner of New York for two years, Assistant Federal Coroner before that. How am I doing?" Cam replied from the open doorway. Brennan gritted her teeth a little at Cam's appearance, but she masked her dislike with skill that she hadn't long possessed.

"Very well. Impressive."

Booth's phone rang suddenly from the other end of the room, and three pairs of eyes turned toward the sound. Though Brennan had known he was there and even known he was listening, Cam and Hodgins had not. Cam was surprised to see him so at ease in Brennan's office, and her brows rose slightly as she watched him answer the call.

"Booth." His gaze met Brennan's, communicating silently that they wouldn't be going home just yet. She sighed and shrugged out of her lab coat. "Yeah, we'll be there in fifteen minutes." He ended the call and got up from the couch, helping Brennan into her jacket and inclining his head briefly toward their audience.

With a distracted wave and a hand to the small of her back, they were gone.

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"Does Cam know that we're together?" Brennan asked him from the passenger seat of the SUV. She wanted to know exactly how offended she should be by her new boss's behavior. Booth eyed her cautiously and didn't immediately recognize the expression on her face. It was... _possessive_. He fought to keep the satisfied grin from his face and answered her honestly.

"Well, if she does, she didn't hear it from me. I haven't talked to her more than once or twice since we became partners, and even that was before we got together. I'd think Goodman would've told her, but maybe he didn't."

"Hmm," she grunted back, keeping her eyes on the road in front of them.

"You know, you're pretty hot when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," she denied.

"Maybe just a little?" he teased. "Bones, you don't have anything to worry about. You know that, right? Anything Cam and I may have had that went beyond friendship is long since over. I've only got eyes for you, baby. No need to be jealous."

" _I'm not jealous."_ Her words were insistent, but her features had relaxed a bit. Brennan knew she was being silly. She knew Booth was committed to their relationship and wasn't interested in anyone else, but damn it if her palms didn't itch to smack that sultry look right off Cam's face…

Booth reached across to take her hand and brought it to his lips. He did that a lot while driving, and she knew it was his way of comforting her as safely as he could from behind the wheel. If they'd been anywhere else, he would've pulled her into an embrace.

"Don't worry, Bones," he said with a gentle smile. "I'm all yours."

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Charlie approached them almost immediately after they stepped out of the elevator, and he handed Booth a file before exchanging a few quiet words. Booth thanked him and guided Brennan down the familiar hallway.

Assistant US Attorney Lisa Supek was waiting for them in the conference room at the Hoover, flanked by two men whom she introduced as Mr. Hobbs from the National Transportation and Safety Board and Mr. Burrows from the Securities Exchange Commission. Ms. Supek looked distinctly unhappy, though whether that was due to the lateness of the hour or their current case was unclear.

They listened as Hobbs summarized the circumstances of the train crash, and Ms. Supek directed her first question to Brennan, asking if the Jeffersonian had been able to confirm that the driver of the car was Warren Lynch.

Brennan replied in the affirmative, citing matching dental records and physical characteristics, and Booth added that the vehicle involved in the crash was registered to Lynch. The jewelry found on the body also belonged to him, and if more proof were needed, he quickly showed the group a traffic cam photo of Lynch driving his car illegally in the carpool lane. Brennan confirmed that the car in the picture was definitely the one on the tracks.

"You can't honestly expect someone to believe that Warren Lynch committed suicide by driving into a train," Ms. Supek challenged. Before Brennan could do more than shake her head, Mr. Burrows spoke up from her left.

"We were about to lay charges against Mr. Lynch that would not only wipe him out financially but send him to prison for several years."

"I'd heard rumors, but for a man like Lynch to kill himself…" Ms. Supek shook her head incredulously.

"Mr. Lynch did not commit suicide," Brennan announced.

"Dr. Brennan's examination shows that he was dead for at least six hours before the train struck the car," Booth added.

"Dead how?"

"I don't know that yet," Brennan answered the woman.

"But can we assume that it was foul play?" she pressed. Burrows interjected that Lynchpin International stock would have plummeted with the announcement of Lynch's death, and anyone betting that the share price would fall would stand to collect a massive amount of money when it actually happened.

"How much are we talking?" Ms. Supek asked.

"Tens, maybe hundreds, of millions."

Brennan had to agree with Booth that it certainly appeared to be a justifiable motive for murder, but they had one more person to talk to before they could finally go home. The victim's wife, Brianna, was waiting for them in Booth's office with her attorney.

The woman admitted that she and her husband had both been unfaithful in their marriage, and Warren Lynch had even gone so far as to hire a private investigator to look into his wife's misdeeds. Booth asked for the name of the PI and ground his teeth a little when he heard the answer.

Rick Turco was a scummy kind of guy who took care of the dirty dealings for a number of wealthy clients. Booth had come across him a handful of times in past investigations, and even his reputation as a slimy bastard didn't do him justice. He wasn't looking forward to crossing paths with him again.

Once the two women had left his office, he turned to Brennan and pulled her against him with a deep sigh. Their lips brushed together softly, and both could read the exhaustion in each other's eyes.

"Let's go home, Booth. We can get a few hours' sleep before I have to be back at the lab." He agreed with a nod and pressed one more kiss to her full lips before ushering her out the door.

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Ten a.m. came too quickly for both partners, but Brennan would never intentionally neglect to show up for work on time, no matter how much she might dislike her boss.

"You can park inside, Booth," she told him quietly. He looked at her in surprise. She hadn't been in the parking structure since her kidnapping.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Brennan replied simply. She noticed his solicitous gaze and added, "I can't avoid it forever, Booth. This is where I work. And you're with me… I know it's safe." There was an odd tension in her voice, but Booth decided follow her lead. He squeezed the hand he'd been holding a little tighter and pulled into the garage.

Brennan's pulse accelerated predictably, but she was able to slow it with a few deep breaths. She actually waited for Booth to circle round and open her door for her, clutching his hand firmly until they were past the first security checkpoint. He leaned his head toward her to kiss her temple as they walked.

"I'm proud of you," he whispered. She aimed a hesitant but appreciative smile up at him and relaxed her grip to a normal level. It may have been a small step, but her progress reassured him. The last few months had been a careful balance between healing and hurting, between comfort and compartmentalization. Booth sincerely hoped that they could both continue to move forward from the experience.

As they walked into the lab, Hodgins reported the presence of two types of glass on their victim. One was an automotive safety glass, and the other was most likely from a glass jar of some sort. Zack had been squinting at the bones for quite a while already that morning, and Brennan suspected he might not have gone home the previous evening.

"The victim's left elbow and shoulder were badly dislocated post-mortem," he announced when Booth and Brennan entered his 'Ookey Room.'

"You mean between the time he died and the time he got hit by the train," Booth surmised. Brennan examined the scan briefly to confirm Zack's finding.

"Blood flow was nonexistent when the dislocation occurred," she agreed.

"Okay. You guys do this stuff, and I'll start on Turco."

"What's that?" Zack asked.

"Private investigator."

"Turco's an affliction," Booth added in disgust. "I'll set up a meeting and pick you up later, Bones."

She nodded and returned his peck on the lips before he left the room and strode out of the lab, swinging his arms rhythmically as he went.

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Brennan was grateful that Cam seemed intent on cloistering herself in her newly refurbished autopsy room for the majority of the day. This meant that Brennan could focus on her remains and make some real progress on the analysis without her new boss looking over her shoulder. It didn't necessarily guarantee her privacy however; Angela had taken up residence on the platform and was diligently mining for every nugget of information Brennan was willing to give her regarding her vacation.

 _Yes, Booth liked the bikini she'd helped Brennan pick out. No, they didn't have sex on the beach. Because she preferred to keep sand_ out _of certain areas, thank-you-very-much. Yes, she and Russ got along fine. So did Booth. Yes, they talked about finding her father…_

However, when Angela brought the conversation around to Goodman's personnel decisions, Brennan schooled her features into an unaffected expression.

"You didn't actually _want_ the job, did you?"

"I don't even know what _the job_ is," Brennan replied neutrally, studying the scan she was creating of the superior portion of the victim's right femur.

"Well, Goodman won't explain his decision." Not that Angela hadn't tried to wheedle it out of him. Brennan huffed a sarcastic laugh and shook her head.

"Goodman appointed Dr. Saroyan while I was on vacation, then took a two month sabbatical to avoid me. That explains a lot."

Angela winced sympathetically. She'd been surprised at Goodman's decision as well, though she had to admit that Cam seemed like a reasonably good fit for the job thus far.

"Okay, well I think it's because you're very task-oriented," she said, trying to remain upbeat.

"Task-oriented is a euphemism for lacking overall perspective," Brennan replied.

"No, no… Well, yeah. A little bit. I mean don't me wrong, Sweetie, you have a better grasp on perspective than you used to…"

"Before Booth, you mean."

"Well… yeah," she said a little weakly. She quickly latched on to the _other_ thing she'd wanted to ask Brennan about. "Hey, _speaking of Booth_ ," she lowered her voice and leaned toward her friend. "What was going on with you two last night?"

"I don't know what you mean," Brennan replied blankly.

"I _mean_ , Cam was getting all flirty with Booth, and you looked like you wanted to scratch her eyes out. What was that all about?"

Brennan rolled her eyes for effect and sighed. Angela wasn't far from the truth.

"You're being hyperbolic; I wasn't looking at her any such way. I assume you're asking how Booth and Cam know each other already when he was as clueless about her new position as I was. The answer is that they've been friends since college but haven't been in contact much over the past year."

"Honey, there was more than a friend vibe coming off Cam," Angela persisted. "And 'hyperbolic,' my ass. Subtlety is not your strong suit." Brennan ignored that and responded only to her first comment.

"They were intimate for short time, but Booth says that part of their relationship has been over for a many years." Brennan motioned Zack to join them and instructed him to analyze the scan.

"So you talked to Booth about it?" Angela pressed, not paying attention to the bone scan.

"Of course." She was distracted by the image on the screen and posited that the most likely culprit for the damage they were seeing was opiates. Warren Lynch had been a heroin addict.

Angela followed Brennan into her office, not at all ready to be done talking about Booth and Cam. Brennan sighed quietly at the determination on Angela's face; her friend was obviously not going to let it go.

"So how serious were they? You know, back then."

Brennan hesitated, unsure of the boundaries. Booth had told her about Cam in a private conversation, but it was bound to come out eventually. They were a tightly knit group, and no one had secrets for long, especially with Angela around.

"They weren't. They had a 'friends with benefits' arrangement," she explained. Angela's eyes widened at the salacious gossip. She had really only ever seen Booth pay attention to one woman, and his devotion to her and _only_ her had been constant. After watching him with Brennan, it was hard to imagine him as the kind of guy who would have casual relationships.

"Wow… So, does she know about the two of you?"

"I don't know. Booth says he didn't tell her because it's been so long since they last spoke, but we both agree that Goodman should've mentioned it."

"I agree with that too, but I don't think he told her. So you should."

"There's no reason to bring it up, Angela. It doesn't affect our work or her position as my boss."

"Well you should at least tell her to keep her paws off your man," she replied smartly.

"I think it's Booth's place to have that conversation rather than mine," Brennan answered with a small frown. Angela smirked in satisfaction, noticing her friend's lack of argument at the phrasing she'd chosen. _Holy crap, Temperance Brennan is jealous…_

Angela had watched Brennan navigate from one man's bed to another over the years, and though there hadn't been all that many, she had _never_ seen Brennan behave jealously with any of them. Now, however, it was as plain as the nose on her face.

 _As fun as it is to watch, things are awkward enough around here already,_ Angela thought uneasily. _Booth had better clear the air with Cam sooner rather than later._

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 **Reviews make the hard work worth it, so don't leave me hanging! Love to all!**

 **-Christi**


	2. Chapter 2

**Good Monday Morning, my lovelies! Thanks so much for all of the wonderful reviews! For you guests asking questions and making suggestions I can't address directly, please see my profile page under notes for this story.**

 **Smut warning for this chapter. :) Though, assuming you read my first story, I shouldn't really need to warn anyone. ;)**

 **Enjoy! - Christi**

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Chapter 2

True to his word, Booth was back to pick Brennan up shortly before dinner time, and he explained that he'd been able to get Rick Turco to meet them at the diner. Over the summer, they had introduced the rest of the team (apart from Cam) to the diner, and it had quickly become a favorite among the group. They still paid the occasional visit to Sid, but the Royal Diner was close enough that they could walk from the lab.

Although Booth hadn't liked the idea of someone like Turco tainting what he felt was 'their place,' there hadn't really been time to be sentimental about it. They sat across from him at one of the tables next to the long row of windows, and Brennan quickly understood her partner's low opinion of the man. Turco claimed not to have known about his client's heroin habit, but with his next breath, he was saying that his job was to make problems go away.

"You mean like when Lynch's wife found out he was sleeping with other women?" she asked blandly.

 _That's my girl_ , Booth thought with a smirk.

"Alright, anything I say-strictest confidence, correct?" The partners nodded. "Warren Lynch brought me in to deal with a blackmailer."

"Warren Lynch was being blackmailed?"

"By one of his girlfriends?" Brennan added.

"That would be my assumption, yes. I'd paid them off before, but this was a much bigger deal, more serious. Had to be the heroin, right?"

"How'd it play out?"

"I negotiated the payment from a mil to a quarter million, paid 'em off. That was three days ago."

"How?" Booth pressed.

"Dead drop at Rock Creek Park."

"And you have no idea who it was."

"No, I got a phone call. When I traced it back, it dead ended on a stolen cell phone."

Booth sighed and contemplated the man for a moment. His story was certainly plausible, but Booth felt compelled to doubt its validity. He didn't trust the guy in the slightest, and Turco was certainly not short on reasons to lie to them-the most heinous possibility being that he had murdered Lynch himself.

They left the diner a short while later and made their way home. They lived within walking distance of the very same park Turco had mentioned, and although it was a large park, Brennan couldn't help but feel a little nervous. They'd come to enjoy taking their runs through the park together, and she made a mental note to limit her exercise to the daylight hours in the future.

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Booth woke her a little earlier than usual the following morning and pulled her into the shower with him. Shower sex was still their _thing_ , and they had gotten the logistics down to an art, really. Whether he took her against the tiled wall or from behind under the stream of hot water, both were equally satisfied.

He watched her get dressed in a snug pair of dress pants and a ridiculously low cut black top, glancing at the clock to gauge whether or not they had time for round two.

"I feel like _this_ particular shirt should really only be for personal time," he murmured against the skin of her neck. His arms snaked around her waist smoothly from behind her, and she shivered at the sensation of his warm breath across her skin.

"Is that so?" she asked coyly, one hand drifting upward to curve over the back of his neck.

"Mmhmm…" He continued to kiss his way slowly toward her lips.

"Don't you think that's just a little hypocritical?" she smirked.

"Hypocritical?" he asked, ceasing his attentions and turning her in his arms.

"Yes. Worrying about who might stare at me at work, when you told _me_ only yesterday not to worry about Cam's flirting and staring?" Brennan's lips were curved into a provocative smile, but Booth could read the hint of jealousy still lingering beneath her expression.

He groaned appreciatively at the gentle forward thrust of her hips against his, and he noticed that her nimble fingers were quickly undoing the buttons of the shirt he'd just put on. Booth captured her lips in a passionate kiss and began to pull the too-revealing shirt over her head.

"You _don't_ have to worry, baby," he told her between kisses. "I belong to you… and _only you._ "

"Prove it," she whispered breathlessly, her pulse quickening at his clean, masculine scent and the sensation of skin against skin. He gasped a little at her words and made quick work of their remaining clothing. Their tongues mated wildly, and she pushed him steadily backward until his calves hit the side of the bed, forcing him into a sitting position.

Booth looked up at her in admiration. She really did have an incredible body. He knew she worked hard to maintain it, but her beauty seemed so effortless that it frequently scrambled his wits simply to look at her. He shook his head slightly in amazement and couldn't let another second pass without capturing the hardened tip of her breast between his lips. She clutched his broad shoulders in response, moaning softly at the contact.

Brennan moved her legs to straddle his as she stood before him, and Booth's fingertips glided slowly up her thighs, seeking the slick flesh between them. She cried out as he slid on long finger into her heat, then another. He worked her slowly toward her release as he used his mouth to tease and tug her nipple with prodigious skill.

It felt amazing, but it wasn't what she wanted-what she _needed_. Brennan pulled his head back from her chest and crashed her soft lips into his, encouraging him to scoot backward slightly on the bed. He remained sitting up, however, and that was perfect. She settled her weight on her knees, which she placed on either side of his hips, and sank slowly onto him. Booth palmed her hips gently and allowed her to set the pace.

Brennan wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her chest to his. Each roll of her hips brought her breasts tighter against him, and Booth moaned at the exquisite feel of her. Their position was extremely intimate, and he couldn't resist the urge to bring her lips to his once more. Their breath came together in short, pleading gasps, each of them wanting more.

"Say it," she begged. He didn't need to ask what she meant.

"Yours," he groaned against her lips. "I'm yours, baby." Brennan ground her hips faster and harder against him, feeling her release approaching. She moved her head to press her mouth to his neck, nipping and suckling gently, intentionally marking him. The eroticism and intimacy of her actions brought Booth closer to his own climax.

"Mine…"

"Yours…"

They traded the words back and forth in time with each thrust, each of them laying claim to the other until they tumbled over the edge as one, crying out together with their release.

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Their morning activities made them only slightly late for work, and no one but Angela seemed to notice. Miraculously, the artist managed to keep her remarks to herself, though her grin did widen significantly when she got an eyeful of the mark on Booth's neck. Booth pulled Brennan into her office and away from Angela's observant gaze to say a quick goodbye before he headed to the Hoover. They agreed to get lunch at the diner later.

Brennan climbed the platform to join Zack, who was waiting to present his completed skull reconstruction. Cam was standing quietly next to the exam table as well, but Brennan ignored her for the moment. She studied the skull carefully for a few moments before nodding.

"You did a good job," she commended him.

"Given your heroin bombshell, I went back to what tissue remained and found traces of laudanine and reticuline, alkaloids found in the opium poppy," Cam informed her.

"I'd like Angela to do a facial reconstruction," she said to Zack before turning her attention to Cam. "Confirm my finding?" Cam nodded.

"It's handy having a pathologist right in the building," Zack commented.

"To turn opium into heroin, it's exposed to hot acetic anhydride, which produces eighteen neutral impurities. The ratio of these impurities indicates the heroin's origin; in this case, Mexico," Cam added.

"Mexican heroin is very common. I wonder if there's anything we can do to narrow it down further…" Brennan trailed off, allowing a falsely vapid smile to grace her features. Cam smiled as well, unfooled but willing to play along.

"Gas chromatography shows there's also fentanyl in the heroin."

"What's that?" Brennan asked vaguely.

"This reminds me of when you interviewed me to be your grad student," Zack said naively before addressing Cam. "She knows what fentanyl is."

Cam smiled and nodded, and Brennan dropped the ignorant facade with a roll of her eyes.

"It's a narcotic which boosts the effects of heroin. According to Metro cops, fourteen addicts ODed this week, off this one shipment."

"Have you told Booth?" Brennan asked.

"No, I'll leave that up to you," she answered with another smile. "How'd I do?" Brennan didn't answer, and Cam left the platform, her cheerful smile still in place.

"I thought she did very well," Zack announced. Brennan refrained from rolling her eyes and refocused on the case.

"You said you had something else to show me?"

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The _something else_ turned out to be an experiment involving the controlled burning of a fabricated skeleton covered with spam. Zack and Hodgins had approximated the temperature and duration of a car fire if the gas tank had been full. After the twenty minutes had elapsed, Hodgins killed the flames inside of the glass enclosure.

"That's still a significant amount of spam," Brennan said skeptically.

"According to the fire department report, the car burned for forty minutes, it still took four minutes to put it out," said Hodgins.

"Which means there was extra fuel," Zack surmised.

"And the extra glass you found?" Brennan asked.

"Five gallon mason jars."

"Six of them," Zack added.

"Filled with gasoline," Brennan concluded.

"That or moonshine," Hodgins snickered.

"Why does the whole lab smell like a luau?"

Three heads turned toward the doorway where Cam stood, looking nervous and slightly alarmed at the flames that still licked over the spam corpse. Brennan spoke up first.

"Zack and Hodgins are proving there was extra accelerant in Lynch's vehicle."

"Using what medium?"

"Artificial bone covered with spam."

"Turn this off," Cam said quietly. The other three turned to her in surprise at her strained tone. Hodgins looked at Brennan, who nodded her assent, and only then did he comply with his boss's request. This action did not go unnoticed by Cam, who clenched her jaw a little in response.

"Why wasn't I told about this?"

"I encourage independent inquiry," Brennan answered, chuckling.

"Your encouragement does not signify my authorization. If it happens again, I _will_ take action. And I'm from New York, which means that I will take _New York_ action. Am I clear?"

"Not at all," Brennan replied, confusion etching her features.

"I'm from Michigan," Zack said robotically.

"Dr. Saroyan means she'll make us watch musical theater," Hodgins joked.

"Wrong New York," Cam replied smoothly. "I'm more from the get-mugged-in-broad-daylight tradition. This is not a high school science fair, this is the Jeffersonian Institute. Unauthorized experiments will get you fired."

"But… we're Hodge-Podge and Zackaroni," Zack said weakly, referring to the rather ridiculous nicknames she'd given them while Brennan had been on vacation.

"And they work for _me_ ," Brennan added.

"You know, what I'd really like to do here is enjoy a meeting of the minds, but if you insist on an organizational pyramid, I _will_ be at the top." Cam walked away brusquely, and Hodgins huffed a sigh before turning the flames back up to full force.

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Booth arrived a little after noon to pick Brennan up for lunch, and he caught on to her foul mood immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked in concern. "You were pretty happy when I dropped you off this morning. Now you look like someone ticked you off. Someone compromise the remains?" he guessed.

Brennan rolled her eyes a little and launched into an explanation of Cam's reaction to Zack and Hodgins' experiment.

"Spam?" he asked for clarification, opening the glass door and following her into the diner.

"There were mason jars in the backseat, intended to break when the train hit."

"And they got this with _spam_?"

"Yeah, spam," she answered, taking a seat next to him at the long counter.

"Mmhmm… And Cam, she got all...bent out of shape?"

"She wants to authorize all experiments," Brennan announced incredulously.

"Great, you know Zack and Hodgins… They do an experiment with fake bones in spam."

"What's your spam fixation?"

"Defense lawyer hears _spam_ , he makes a joke, the jury laughs, and everything we get from the Jeffersonian is framed as 'goofy science.' You know, from a bunch of squints with no connection to the real world."

"That wouldn't happen," Brennan disagreed, bristling slightly at his choice of phrase and recalling the way he'd accused her and her team of that exact shortcoming during the Cleo Eller case.

"Oh really, and the time you dropped a dead monkey down the elevator shaft-"

"No, that was to show…" She caught sight of his goofy smile and laughed warmly. "Okay, I take your point."

He leaned in to kiss her lightly, and Brennan felt her mood lift significantly. Ten minutes in his company, and she felt the tension she'd been carrying all morning almost melt away. _How did he do that?_

They took turns trading the case information they'd learned over the course of the morning, and she managed to swipe nearly half of his fries. He pretended to be frustrated over it, and she pretended to be contrite, earning herself one more perfect kiss before the ringing of his phone interrupted them.

"Booth." He grinned at her indulgently as she stole yet another french fry. "Patch me through," he said into the phone, listening for a moment before his smile slid from his face. Brennan watched him, growing concerned as his expression became even more grim. "When? You get the doer? ...Thanks for the notification."

"What?"

"The man who was charged with murdering your mother…"

"The pig farmer. Vince McVicar," she supplied.

"He was killed. Today, at Alexandria Federal Holding Facility."

Brennan looked back at him in shock, tears springing to her eyes as she quickly realized the implications of the man's death.

"I don't… He was the only connection to my father. His trial was going to be my…" She trailed off, shaking her head and willing her tears not to spill over. "How am I ever going to find out what really happened?"

"We'll figure it out, Bones," he told her gently, trying to reassure her.

"How are we going to find my father? It's clear that he won't simply approach me. He was _there_ , in that house with me, Booth. He was close enough to kill a man right up the stairs from where I was tied up, and he couldn't even stick around long enough to make sure I regained consciousness."

Booth turned their bodies to face one another and held both of her hands briefly to his lips before brushing her hair back from her face.

"Bones, he was hiding from the FBI. He's the one who called me to tell me where you were so that I could come for you. Max knew that if he'd stuck around, he'd be arrested." Brennan closed her eyes, unable to draw much comfort from his words.

"What that tells me is that even after helping me like he did, he still values his own freedom more than my well-being."

Booth sighed and leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. He realized that the part of her logic she was missing was that her father loved her. Clearly there were bigger factors at play when it came to Max Keenan; things they didn't know yet. But as much as he wanted to reassure her of her father's love, he knew that she wasn't ready to accept it yet. So instead, he remained silent, allowing her to lean on him and draw the strength she needed.

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Booth and Brennan gathered around the Angelator with Cam and Angela later that evening to take a look at her facial reconstruction, and the results were alarming.

"That's not Warren Lynch. How accurate is this thing?" Cam asked.

"It's not the machine that's accurate, it's Angela. And she's good," Brennan defended her, shooting a loaded glance at Booth that easily communicated her frustration with the newcomer.

"That is not Warren Lynch," her boss repeated.

"Hey, Zack provided the skull, and this is the face that goes with it," Angela insisted. Booth spoke up anxiously.

"Could it be the wrong skull?"

"Zack doesn't make that kind of mistake," Brennan contradicted. "He's also very good."

"What about dental records?" Cam inquired, running through her mental list of problems that were bound to fall at her feet now.

"I'll check them for tampering," Angela volunteered.

"So you're certain that the body in the car…"

"Is not Warren Lynch," Brennan finished Booth's statement. "Absolutely certain."

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"Angela says the AUSA was angry with _her_ ," Brennan informed her partner from the passenger seat. They were staking out a known drop location of the heroin dealer who was pushing the overly-potent drug they'd found in their victim's system.

"Lisa Supek?"

"Yes, apparently she blamed Angela for the mistaken identity when in fact it was Angela who revealed a fraud."

"Typical," he muttered, his eyes scanning across the street to the alleyway they were watching.

"Ange said that… Cam stood up for her," Brennan admitted quietly. Booth glanced at her with raised brows and nodded.

"Sounds like Cam. I really do think things will be great once you all get your feelings worked out."

" _Feelings_ aren't a factor, Booth. She's been acting like…" she struggled for the right words.

"Like she's in charge?" Booth asked with a tiny smile. Brennan rolled her eyes, and he chuckled. "You know, you're cute when you're flustered." She shot him a look of mock contempt and turned her attention back to the street.

"Hey, that's our guy!" she exclaimed, moving to open her door. Booth reached across quickly to stop her, holding the door closed and shushing her impatiently.

"No, no, shhhh. What we gotta do is wait until he deals. Catch him in the act."

"We wait? For how long?"

"However long it takes." His arm was still across her torso, and their faces were mere inches apart. The temperature in the car seemed to rise by several degrees, and she arched a quizzical brow at him.

"Well, what do we do while we wait?" she asked suggestively.

"Not _that_ , Dr. Brennan. Behave yourself."

"Not _what_ , Agent Booth?" Her tone was innocent, mocking him.

"You know what."

"I'm sure just... _one_ kiss...wouldn't hurt," she insisted. He grinned at her affectionately and closed the distance between their lips. They kept the contact light and soft, chaste even, compared to their usual kisses. It was incredibly sweet, and when they pulled away from one another, it was with a fair amount of reluctance.

They sat for another few minutes, watching the short, bald drug dealer glance shiftily around the scene, and Brennan's focus began to wane slightly.

"We're on," her partner announced abruptly, and they both got out of the car to run quickly toward the alleyway. When they reached him, the prospective buyer had fled, and the drug dealer was furiously attempting to swallow the heroin he'd been attempting to sell.

Booth stopped him before the drugs had made it down his throat and didn't hesitate to make his point very clear. Brennan was slightly alarmed as she watched her partner intimidate the junkie. He made clear and concise threats, seemingly playing the roles of bad cop and worse cop simultaneously, and it paid off. The repugnant man gave them a name, Ray, to whom he had sold heroin three days prior. After Booth released him, Brennan stepped closer to the man.

"I feel I should alert you. There's an additive in this heroin that causes overdoses."

Booth watched the drug dealer's eyes travel the length of her body and hastily pulled her away and out of his reach. As he led her away, he heard the man's voice behind them.

"Hey, where'd you find _her_?"

"Piss off," Booth replied irritably. His phone began to ring from his pocket, but he kept an arm around Brennan's waist as he answered it. "Booth."

"He should warn the other addicts," Brennan said.

"Yeah, like they do on a pack of cigarettes." Booth directed his next words into his phone. "When? ...Thanks."

"What?"

"They found Warren Lynch."

"Where?"

"In the hospital. He's brain-dead."

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They made a stop by the hospital on the way home, but the report had been accurate-Warren Lynch had severe brain damage in addition to broken ribs, legs, pelvis, spinal damage, and severe internal bleeding. His doctor informed them that he'd been thrown out of a speeding car and was most likely only still alive because he'd already been unconscious at the time. Some of his injuries were from a physical assault.

As they lay in bed that night, Booth's mind drifted back to their lunch conversation. With Vince McVicar now dead, Booth wasn't sure yet how best to proceed with the search for her father. He was trying to secure a visit with the man who'd taken out McVicar, but other than that slight possibility, there were literally no leads at this point, nothing left that could be connected to Max Keenan. His heart ached for Brennan, knowing how much she'd been counting on McVicar's trial to reveal the truth of what had happened back then as well as to provide them with clues of her father's current whereabouts. Now there was nothing, and she still needed peace.

Booth's arms tightened around her, and he caressed the bare skin of her back in soothing, rhythmic patterns. He knew she wasn't asleep yet, and he guessed that her beautiful, brilliant mind was keeping her awake.

"Bones."

"Mmm?"

"You haven't been out to your mother's grave since the funeral. Maybe we could go tomorrow?" She looked up at him with confusion in her eyes. "Or the next day, or whenever this case is done," he amended, assuming that she wanted to focus on their jobs before taking time for a trip to the cemetery.

"Why should we go?"

"To...you know, to visit. To talk to your mom."

"But...she's dead. She can't hear anything," she replied, furrowing her brow even more at his suggestion. Booth breathed a sigh and did his best to put his thoughts into words that would make sense to her.

"Yeah, that may be true, but… It helps, Bones. Sometimes just saying certain things out loud, whether the person can hear you or not, can make you feel better. And it's good to remember the people we've lost. Visiting their resting places is a way to do that." She still looked a little skeptical, and he decided to appeal to her academic side. "Come on, I'm sure there's an anthropological lesson about visiting burial sites." He quirked a playful brow at her, and she chuckled.

"Are you actually _requesting_ an anthropology lesson?" she asked, eyes twinkling. Booth grinned back affectionately.

"Oh yeah, baby. Talk squinty to me."

Brennan laughed and shook her head at him before kissing him softly. He was right of course; there were numerous cultures with similar burial traditions. While she didn't understand the logic of it, she knew that it was a common practice and a means of seeking peace after the death of a loved one.

"I think I'll spare you…this time," she told him, still smiling. "In this area, you may actually have more insight than I do, but why are you bringing it up now?" Booth pressed his lips to her forehead briefly before answering.

"Maybe… Maybe it might bring you some peace. I know you're upset about the news we got today, and I'm disappointed too. But whether we're able to track down your father or not, talking to your mom might help."

She was silent for a few moments, digesting his words. He was worried about her, that much was obvious. She wouldn't have been able to see it in anyone else, but Brennan had become very adept at reading Booth. Perhaps not as well as he was able to read _her_ , but she'd certainly gotten better at it. She highly doubted that talking to a granite headstone would make her feel any better, but she was willing to try if it would ease his concern.

"Okay… But let's get this case closed first."

"Okay? Really?" _That was too easy_.

"Yes. If you think it will be a positive experience, then I'm willing to try."

He smiled and kissed her sweetly, drawing her even closer in his embrace.

"I love you," they both whispered simultaneously. Brennan chuckled softly and released a sigh of content before both slipped into peaceful dreams.

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Booth had developed a fairly strong stomach over the past year as Brennan's partner, but Angela's recreation of the victim's elbow and shoulder being dislocated still made him feel a little queasy. He didn't want to see it again, but the squints were stuck on exactly _how_ the injury had happened to a corpse.

"Run it again," he instructed Angela, wincing at the image a second time. "It's like he was putting his jacket on."

"Corpses don't usually do that."

"These injuries occurred when the corpse was forced into a jacket," Zack agreed, looking appreciative of the revelation.

"Most likely by two people," Angela suggested. Booth switched her focus to the traffic photograph she'd been working on. It turned out that she'd been able to get a reflection of the car in the next lane from the shiny surface of Lynch's car. She showed him an image of the man driving next to Lynch.

"I don't know if that's any use to you."

 _Turco. Of course_.

"Yeah. That's of use," he replied grimly.

"Booth, do either of these count as experiments?" Zack asked nervously.

"Cause if they do, we could both get fired-by your old sweetheart," she added with a smirk.

"Mind your own business, Angela," he muttered back. Booth turned on his heel and left her office, glancing at Brennan through her office window as he passed through the lab toward Cam's autopsy room. Brennan had buried herself in research at her desk and didn't see him. Booth sighed, hoping he'd be able to get her out of there for lunch later.

He found Cam easily enough, and he gazed around the autopsy bay curiously. It was directly across from Brennan's office and had the same array of windows and blinds, but it was big enough to contain the equipment she needed to do her job. She smiled warmly as he entered, and Booth quickly relayed Zack and Angela's findings.

"Of course, Angela and Zack are scared that this counts as an experiment and you're going to fire them," he told her facetiously.

"Ah! I am getting through," she replied, grinning mischievously.

"Why'd you take this job, Camille?" It had been bothering him. Although they hadn't been intimate in years and Cam had the tendency to be an incorrigible flirt, Booth was concerned that she might have had an ulterior motive beyond that of a nice lab and great salary.

"Why shouldn't I, Seeley?"

"Because it's basically herding cats, and you're a dog person."

"Dogs herd cats."

"Dogs...don't do that."

"Chase 'em up trees, whatever," she smirked. Booth had had enough of the playful banter.

"Seriously, Cam. Why'd you take this job?"

She turned to an instrument tray and picked up a gruesome-looking tool.

"These are titanium rib-clippers from Germany. My last job used bolt cutters from Home Depot. These are much, much nicer." She placed them back down and continued, "This autopsy table has downdraft ventilation. No rotting corpse smell, Seeley. My last table didn't even have a _drain_. Think about that: leaky corpse, no drain."

He cringed and could imagine the smell all too easily, but he wasn't reassured by her little speech.

"So you took this job for better equipment."

"I've spent my whole professional life in basement rooms with no windows. Now I'm in the _Jeffersonian Institute_. ...What?" she asked, trying to decipher his uncomfortable expression.

"Gotta ask…"

"You so do not," she told him, catching on to his implication.

"Did you take this job because of…" he gestured to himself. Cam laughed and shook her head.

"Nothing to do with you."

Booth nodded, hoping she was telling the truth, and decided to shift the conversation elsewhere.

"I need Bones this afternoon."

"Okay," she said agreeably. She'd been surprised at the nickname he'd dropped at the crime scene the other night. For one, Dr. Brennan didn't seem the type to tolerate something like that in a professional setting. And Cam couldn't help but notice that Booth had never given _her_ a nickname.

"It's about her mother's murder and her father's disappearance," he added.

"Plus she dedicated her book to you, so…"

"It's a legitimate case, Cam," he replied a little defensively.

"I know. I read the file."

Booth nodded and turned to leave, but she stopped him with a question.

"Why hasn't she confronted me?" Cam asked. It wasn't the question she'd _wanted_ to ask him. What she really wanted to know was who was responsible for the hickey on his neck, if for no other reason than to confirm her suspicions.

"About what?" he stalled.

"About me...being parachuted in over her head? She finds me intimidating, right?" Booth laughed at her presumption and shook his head. Cam was a little offended at his derision. "Hey, I intimidate people!"

"Yeah, Bones doesn't intimidate," he replied, still smirking.

"Then...what?" she pressed. Booth regarded her briefly, trying to determine how best to describe Brennan's process.

"Have you seen the way she stares at human remains before she makes a decision?"

"Yes…"

"You're human remains, and...she hasn't made a decision yet."

"How do I help her make the right decision?" she asked, watching him back toward the doorway.

"Go for the truth. You know… take care of her people. But _don't_ try to intimidate her. That'll only end up embarrassing you," he chuckled. "Which reminds me… the flirting… you've gotta stop that. You don't know it, but that's embarrassing you too. Bones-"

He was interrupted by his cell ringing, and he knew from the caller ID that he needed to take the call immediately.

"Booth."

Cam eyed him speculatively, wondering if he'd been about to say what she thought he'd say. That he and Brennan were together. She'd neither seen nor heard anything to confirm her suspicion, but Cam was an intelligent woman. There was _some_ thing going on there, even if it wasn't official.

Booth closed his phone after a few brief words and excused himself quickly, telling her that he and 'Bones' would actually be leaving now rather than that afternoon. Cam watched as he crossed the lab to Brennan's office and entered without knocking, and Brennan was out of her seat within seconds, trading her lab coat for her blazer and hurrying out of the sliding glass doors with Booth's hand at her back.

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"They're sure this is the man who killed McVicar?" Brennan asked as they waited to be shown into a room at the prison. Booth nodded grimly.

"Name's Mitchell Downs."

A door opened nearby, and they were shown to a table occupied by a prisoner who was wearing a rather bemused expression. The partners sat next to one another on the opposite side, and Booth spoke first.

"Mr. Downs, I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI; this here is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan. We have a few questions for you regarding your confession to the murder of a fellow inmate. Vince McVicar?"

"Got no reason to lie. Facing life at least. Probably going to get executed."

"What did you do?" Brennan asked, slightly disturbed by the man's nonchalance.

"Mr. Downs killed his entire family," Booth revealed.

"I killed your _friend_ 'cause he cut in the cafeteria line to snag the last orange juice. Broke off a sharpened toothbrush in his jugular," Downs gloated.

"Mr. Downs, the man you killed-" Brennan began.

"McVicar."

"-He's not my friend. He killed my mother."

"You come to tell me thanks?" he smirked.

"No. McVicar was my last chance to find out some things. He might have known something about my father. I… I can't ask my father because he left a message on my answering machine telling me not to look for him…" She wasn't sure why she'd told him that, but her words seemed to have an impact on Downs.

"I'll tell you what. Maybe… look at McVicar's murder as a second message from _Max_. One he didn't use a phone for." He turned his head to signal the guard that he was finished. Both partners' eyes widened at his words.

"I never said my father's name was Max."

"I'm done," Downs told the guard.

"Did you perform a hit for Max Keenan?" Booth asked urgently. But the man didn't answer, and Booth rose from his seat, repeating his question a second time.

"Take it as a sign from God," Downs advised.

He disappeared through the doorway to be led back to his cell, and Booth looked back at Brennan cautiously. His mind was racing, and he knew hers must be as well. Booth motioned her out of the room, and neither spoke until they reached the SUV.

"That's what happened, isn't it? My father hired a hitman to kill Vince McVicar?"

Booth winced a little at the pain in her voice and reached over to hold her hand.

"I don't know, Bones." The more he thought about it, the less surprised he was. Max Keenan had killed the man who had hurt his daughter. Why would the same not also be true for the person who'd murdered his wife? Brennan was shaking her head with her lips pressed tightly together, trying to make sense of it.

"How am I going to tell Russ that our _father_ ordered the death of another human being?"

During their visit to her brother's home, they'd told Russ about the circumstances surrounding Brennan's kidnapping. After his initial anger that such a thing had happened to his sister, he'd voiced his disbelief that their father could kill someone. Booth had then given him more details about Brennan's rescue, and she'd backed up his story. Russ had been left in shock, still unable to reconcile the father he remembered with the man being described to him: someone who could commit a murder so quickly and efficiently. After he'd had time to think it through, however, Russ had admitted to both of them that if someone were to hurt either of his stepdaughters, he'd want to kill the person responsible.

Booth had agreed with Russ's sentiments. If someone had killed Brennan or hurt his child, he'd have wanted to take them out himself.

"Look, Bones… If he did that, and I'm not saying it happened that way…" _Downs was a criminal after all and might have been lying,_ he thought. "But if he did, then he took out the man who murdered his wife."

"Good people don't commit murder or have other people kill for them. Good people don't even know how."

Booth winced a little at the implication, but he knew she wasn't talking about him. She'd made it quite clear that regardless of how many men he'd killed, it had never been _murder_. Brennan had insisted that there was a difference, even if the lines were blurred in Booth's mind.

"Well, your father buried your mother in a pair of new shoes, in a cemetery, with her dolphin belt buckle that reminded her of you because you both loved dolphins."

"That does not make him a good man," she argued.

"People can be more than one thing," he told her. "Look, we were at a dead end, alright? Now we know that your father was able to get to Mitchell Downs and persuade him to kill McVicar. If we find out how he did that, we're that much closer to finding out what happened to your old man. I mean that's...if you still _want_ to find him," he hedged.

"I do," she insisted.

"Okay. Silver lining, right?" Apparently she knew what that meant, because she didn't ask him to clarify, but Brennan turned to gaze out the windshield as he drove back to the lab.

She was wearing her 'lost little girl' expression again, and her eyes were misty. Booth squeezed her hand gently and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the smooth skin. He wished more than anything that there was a way to make this right for her. Unfortunately, Booth was fairly certain that if they ever _did_ find Max Keenan, the situation would become more complicated than it was already, and he wondered how much more his Bones could take before she broke.

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 **You know what to do!**


	3. Chapter 3

**It's Bonesday Eve! Both an Eve and a Day! ;)**

 **I think you'll all find this chapter rather satisfying for one reason or another. Thanks as always to my fantastic beta for proofing and for helping me work out a couple of the more profound scenes.**

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Chapter 3

Booth lounged around in Brennan's office that evening, working on some paperwork while he waited for her to finish whatever it was she was doing. She was at her desk, and from what Booth could discern from stolen glances in her direction, she seemed distracted. He wasn't sure what she was looking at, but he didn't want to push her after the day she'd had.

Brennan was aware of Booth's presence on an instinctual level, as always, but her mind was a million miles away. She gazed down at the handful of photographs from her mother's file, examining the smiling faces of her parents and trying her best to understand how these two people she had loved so deeply had been so much more than simply her parents. They'd been bank robbers, fugitives, and her father was a murderer. It didn't seem real.

She picked up the rusted dolphin belt buckle and remembered the first time she'd held it in her hands. She'd added it to her first-day-of-high school ensemble, and though Christine Brennan had been irritated that her daughter had taken it without asking, she'd still told Brennan that it had looked nice on her. Brennan thought back to what Booth had said in the car about the fact that her father had buried it with his wife because of its connection to their daughter, but Brennan also recognized that it had been something her mother had prized, partially because Max had had it made just for her.

Her mind continued to work in circles, past to present and back again, and she had an unexpected flash of something important relating to their current case. Something she should have seen before.

"Booth!" He looked up at her curiously and gave a little sigh of relief to see the light back in her eyes. "Warren Lynch was in on it."

"Where did that come from?" he asked, startled.

"He had his own dolphin… that NC-lots of A's national championship ring?"

"His own dolphin…" he was confused until he noticed the belt buckle in her hands.

"All the rest of his jewelry was removed and placed on the dead man. His ten thousand dollar watch, his ID band from his wife, his two other rings… but _not_ the championship ring."

"That's _good_ , Bones," he praised her. He stood up to walk toward the door, and she mimicked his actions.

"The only reason they wouldn't rip it off his hands is 'cause-"

"'Cause Lynch was calling the shots. And I know exactly who was in on it."

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Though it required a little deception during the interrogation, Rick Turco willingly admitted to helping Lynch place a body in the vehicle and rigging it to burn, with the intent of moving the market. However, the man placed everything else on Lynch, who was physically unable to confirm or deny a word of it.

The next morning, the team gathered around the long table in the lounge at the Jeffersonian and listened to AUSA Supek give a rundown of the situation. Booth insisted that Turco was lying about the extent of his involvement, but Supek was doubtful that anything more could be proven in court. Unfortunately the maximum penalty for the crimes to which he'd confessed was ten years. Everyone sighed in disgust. Ten years in prison for contributing to the deaths of three people was practically offensive.

"It's ten years or nothing," Supek argued. "I can only work with what I'm given, and the forensic work on this was not good enough."

" _What?"_ Brennan sputtered.

"You were fooled by fake dental records; you baked some _spam_."

"What did you want us to do?" Cam asked in alarm.

"Your job."

Booth voiced his disapproval of the woman's words, but Cam was already taking care of it. The rest of the team watched the exchange with interest.

"No, Ms. Supek, you wanted us to do _your_ job. My people gave you all the evidence you need to fry Turco with any reasonable jury."

"Forensically-"

"We gave you everything you needed to arrest Turco."

"Arrest is not a conviction," the woman countered.

"We gave you enough to reject his plea bargain and indict him on the wrongful death of a senator."

"Indictment is not a conviction."

"You accept that plea bargain, and the investigation stops," Booth interjected.

"Indict him," Brennan encouraged her. "Give us time to give you what you need."

"If you accept this plea bargain, you don't deserve to be a federal prosecutor," Cam challenged. Ms. Supek looked outraged.

"Dr. Saroyan-"

"Yeah, it's scary. The whole country will be watching the trial, and you don't want to go in with less than a sure thing. But you put my people on the stand as expert witnesses, and that's a sure thing."

" _Not Zack,"_ the remaining three squints contradicted unanimously.

"You tell people the story of what happened using the evidence these people provided, and if you have any ability as a prosecutor, you'll win the case."

"Are you finished?" Ms. Supek replied acerbically.

" _No_ , Ms. Supek. In the future, when you have problems with my team, you register them with me in private-not by grandstanding in a public forum." The women stared each other down for a moment, and Ms. Supek rose silently from the table and left the lounge. Cam followed her.

"Okay, I um...sort of see why she got the job," Brennan said quietly. Booth smiled at her from across the table and gave her a 'let's get out of here' tilt of his head. She grinned back and followed him down the stairs to her office, collected her things, and held his hand as they walked through the glass doors.

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Brennan felt foolish, but she had agreed to try talking to her mother as Booth had suggested. She was glad he'd stepped away, even though she knew he could hear her words. They would've been more difficult to articulate if he'd been standing right next to her.

"Mom, it's me...Temperance. ...I have questions, but you can't answer them. No offense, but I don't think there's anything here but your bones, so…" She shook her head in frustration with herself, muttering, "can't believe I'm doing this…" She drew a steadying breath before continuing. "Is Dad a good man or...a bad man? He killed someone. For me… And he had someone murdered for you. What's the truth? Do I… Do I keep looking, or do I let it go like he asked? Who's he protecting? Himself? Or me and Russ?"

Brennan fell silent, waiting for the clarity Booth had promised, but all she felt was grief.

"Booth? I asked the questions, and guess what? ...No answer," she told him sadly.

"Well, maybe if you weren't standing right on top of her, took a step to the left there, babe." He came back to stand beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Sometimes it takes a while to get an answer, okay? Just leave the flowers."

Brennan sighed and knelt down to place the bouquet he'd insisted on bringing at the base of the headstone.

"I get answers from a lab; you get them from people. Nobody gets answers from a slab of stone," she said dispassionately.

"Yeah, well I see an answer in the stone. You buried your mother as Christine Brennan, the woman you knew as your mother, and not by her real name, Ruth Keenan. That tells me who you are."

Brennan didn't quite follow his meaning, but she was only half-listening. She'd spotted a small piece of silver in the grass in front of the headstone. Instinctively, she reached into the pocket of her jacket for an evidence bag and a pair of the latex gloves she always carried with her. Brennan carefully picked up the object and studied it. _A dolphin_. It was tiny, perhaps the size of a penny.

"What have you got?"

"A dolphin," she answered, intrigued. Booth watched her slip it into the small evidence bag. "What does _that_ tell you?"

"What does it tell _you?_ " he countered.

"My father was here." It was the most logical conclusion.

"Because he loves your mother, grieves her loss, and he came here to talk to her," he replied. Booth took the evidence bag from her hands and removed the dolphin carefully.

"You're tainting evidence," she argued weakly.

"It's not that kind of evidence, Bones. It's evidence of something else. Something that can't be tainted."

 _Love_ , she thought as he put the dolphin in her hand. She held it up, continuing to examine it, and she smiled a little.

"It's beautiful," she remarked. Booth nodded, but he was looking at _her_.

"Yeah."

They walked back to the SUV in pensive silence, and she held his hand gratefully. Brennan continued to look at the small dolphin as he drove them home, and her mind worked slowly backward to the question she'd been too distracted to ask earlier.

"You said that the name I chose for my mother's headstone indicated something about myself. What did you mean by that?"

Booth glanced at her with a crooked smile and tried to keep his reply simple.

"It tells me that you loved your mother, the woman you knew-Christine Brennan. By holding on to that memory, you're holding on to what was real, and her identity as a loving mother was far more real and important than anything she may have done as Ruth Keenan. It tells me that you know who you are no matter what name you were given at birth."

Brennan considered his words briefly, wondering where that left her in regards to Max.

"And my father? Who is he?"

"You'll figure that out, Bones. At the very least, he's a guy who loves and values his family, even if that means making tough decisions sometimes," he said hesitantly.

"Tough decisions like whether or not to take someone's life? Or whether or not to leave his kids on their own for nearly fifteen years without so much as a phone call?" Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, and he sighed, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

"That's only part of the story, Bones. We'll get the rest; it's just going to take some time."

Brennan sighed, then nodded in agreement. She knew he was right. Though it was driving her crazy not to understand something, she trusted that Booth would help her. He'd help find her father, and he'd help her sort through her ambivalent feelings.

With that comforting thought, she gave him a weary smile and squeezed his hand back.

"Thank you, Booth." His answering smile was tender and warm.

"Anytime."

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The following day, Brennan worked up the nerve to call Russ with the news of McVicar's death and the cryptic information they'd gotten from his killer. Her brother was shocked by the revelation, at least initially, but he quickly reiterated his previous logic. If someone had killed Amy, Russ would want her murderer dead too.

Brennan understood this line of reasoning perfectly well. She had no doubt that Booth abided by the same logic, and she had to admit at least to herself that there was nothing _she_ wouldn't do for _him_ either. Even armed with that comprehension, however, Brennan struggled with her brother's willing acceptance of their father's actions.

It was nearly a week before they got another case, but Booth still made regular appearances at the lab. He was still driving Brennan to and from work, and most days he insisted on walking her into the building. He also showed up at mealtimes, either with an armful of takeout bags or to coax her into leaving with him.

Several days after they finished the Warren Lynch case, Booth showed up with numerous boxes of Thai food and spread them evenly over her coffee table. They bickered playfully over the lack of extra mee krob, and she attempted to coax him into trying some of her green papaya salad.

"Bones, I will gladly ply you with all the rabbit food you want, but I'm not eating that."

"You know, calling it rabbit food just makes you sound uneducated. Rabbits will eat anything from grass and clover to twigs and tree bark. You certainly won't see me with wood in my mouth."

Booth choked on a mouthful of pad thai, and Brennan looked at him in concern, putting her food carton down and handing him a bottle of water once his airway was clear.

"You should take smaller bites," she suggested wisely. Booth cleared his throat and fought to contain the smile on his face.

"I was just a little distracted," he admitted, screwing the cap back on his water bottle. She gave him a curious glance and recognized the devious glint in his eyes, grinning appreciatively as he leaned forward to tease her lips with his own.

His tongue traced the curve of her bottom lip, seeking entry, and she granted it without hesitation. Their meal forgotten, Booth pulled her gently onto his lap, angling her legs to rest across his. He wrapped one arm tightly around her waist, and his other hand threaded through her silky hair. She moaned softly as the kiss deepened further, and the delicious sound seemed to make his nerves sizzle in response. Brennan had slid an arm behind his shoulders, pulling him closer until her breasts were pressed against his chest and straining in her low-cut top with every eager breath. Her delicate hand worked slowly over the breadth of his chest, pulling a groan of longing from deep within him.

Booth knew they were playing with fire, so to speak. The blinds on her office windows were closed, but the door was still open. Anyone could walk in at any moment.

 _And someone did._

"Dr. Brennan, I have a few reports needing your sig-" Cam stopped short with an 'Oh!' of surprise and quickly became flustered. The couple pulled apart immediately, and Brennan slid from Booth's lap, slightly embarrassed. "I, um… I'm sorry, I can...come back later," she blundered, backing out of the office and clicking her high heels rapidly back toward her autopsy room.

The partners looked at each other a little nervously before sharing an intimate laugh.

"Well, if she didn't know about our relationship before, she certainly does now," Booth declared, pulling Brennan back onto his lap and kissing her gently.

"I thought you were going to tell her?" she asked, a bit distracted by the way his lips were moving heatedly along the curve of her jaw.

"I started to the last time we talked, but I was interrupted by a phone call," he explained, nipping the skin below her ear, leaving just a hint of a mark.

"Mmmm. I suppose…oh god… Um, I suppose one of us will need to...talk to her about...mmmm…" His mouth was tormenting her, and Brennan felt a rush of warmth flood her center. She wished desperately that it were dinner he'd brought her rather than lunch so that they could go home and do something to ease the ache between her thighs. She could feel his arousal beneath her as well, and she rolled her hips seductively, knowing that he would be cursing the long afternoon as well.

"Bones," he groaned, begging for the release they both needed so desperately. "I need you," he said, practically whining with his desire. She needed him as well, and she had considered their options for only a moment before she replied.

"There _is_ a certain supply closet that locks from the inside…"

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When Booth dropped his partner off to work the next morning, he made a quick detour to the autopsy room on his way back out. Brennan had agreed that he should be the one to talk to Cam about the intimate moment she'd interrupted the previous day, and although Booth had been friends with Cam for thirteen years, he still felt a little nervous as he peeked through her doorway. He'd half hoped she wouldn't be there.

"Seeley," she greeted, glancing up briefly from her computer screen. He rolled his eyes at the sound of his first name."

"Camille," he retaliated. She glared playfully back at him but didn't continue their usual game.

"You need something?"

"Yeah, um…" his hand went to the back of his neck automatically. "Look, I just wanted to apologize for what you walked in on yesterday. Bones is sorry too, we just thought that since you two don't know each other very well yet, it might be best if I…" he trailed off, hoping she would jump in, but she merely looked back at him with a placid smile and held her silence. "Anyway… I just wanted to reassure you that we're usually very professional at work, so you don't need to worry about anything like that. We just got carried away for a moment…"

"So… you're dating my forensic anthropologist?" she asked congenially. Booth scowled at the question. 'Dating' didn't seem like an apt description of their relationship, and Brennan was _his_ forensic anthropologist. No one would ever convince him otherwise.

"I guess you could say that, yeah…" The term didn't cover their level of commitment, but he decided not to press the issue.

"Is it serious?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Booth didn't do _casual_.

"Very," he replied with a grin. "Look, I gotta get to the office, I just wanted to apologize for the awkwardness." As much as he would've liked to stand around and talk about his Bones all day, he knew that Brennan didn't like Cam well enough to be okay with him sharing too many details about their relationship. She was only blatantly open when it came to talking about sex. _Intimacy_ was another matter.

"You're forgiven," Cam said with a half-shrug. "But Booth-" He stopped in his progress toward the door. "Please do try to keep it professional." _And_ please _don't have sex in my lab,_ she added mentally.

"Of course," he assured her with an impish smile. "See you later, Camille."

He did hear her usual reprimand that time, but he ignored it, whistling cheerfully all the way to the car.

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It only took one thing to bring Booth down from his good mood the next day. Well, one _person_. He and Brennan were leaving the lab to head to a crime scene, though _running_ from the lab might have been a more appropriate description.

"Well, if she's been in the water for a year, the bones will be saturated. I'll need nylon mesh bagging and-"

"Cam's bringing in everything on the truck," he assured her.

"Well, after a year, there's not going to be a lot of flesh for Cam."

"Well, you know, Bones...Cam is… She's in charge now. She runs the place; it's her call," Booth replied awkwardly.

"Then let's hurry. I don't want my remains to be compromised," she said, urging him to walk faster. He knew it wasn't the environmental conditions compromising the remains that she worried about. It was Cam. He stifled a grin at Brennan's competitive streak, finding it endearing even if it did exasperate him at times.

He answered an incoming call on his cell, and just like that, his good mood deflated. Rebecca was calling to cancel his upcoming weekend visitation with Parker yet again. This habit of hers had gotten progressively worse over the summer, since she'd started dating someone new. With the exception of Parker's first day of kindergarten in August, Booth hadn't seen his son in nearly two months. He'd even had to beg his ex to see Parker on his birthday, and that had only been for a few hours.

"Whoa, wait a second, slow down, okay? This is my weekend with Parker. I'm his _father_ , alright? Stu is your boyfriend," he argued. Brennan looked at him in concern but didn't slow her pace. Instead, she took one of the field bags from him so that he was less encumbered and could focus on his conversation.

Booth surrendered the bag without complaint, listening to Rebecca deliver her weak reasoning for canceling on Booth yet again. Cam and Zack walked ahead of them to the mobile lab, and Cam was speaking to Brennan. Something she said must've gotten under his girlfriend's skin, because she looked highly insulted.

"Rebecca, he's spending a lot of time with Parker, and I don't even know this guy." Even with the multiple distractions, he saw Brennan's step falter as they entered the parking structure, and he moved his hand to her lower back in a supportive gesture. Her quick pace resumed, but the scowl didn't lift from her features. His attention shifted back to his phone when Rebecca stopped whining long enough to replenish her oxygen, and he pounced on the opportunity. "Because you know what? I just… I just want to make sure he's a good influence on Parker. I gotta run, okay? We'll talk about this later."

Brennan was in the car and buckling her seatbelt with hands that trembled slightly, and she tried to breathe deeply as he pulled the SUV into traffic. She had already felt a little sick at having to reenter the parking garage without sufficient time to prepare herself, but Cam's casual remarks had made her blood boil. Seeing that Booth was off the phone, she launched into a one-sided tirade about the things Cam had said.

"Does she think I'm new at this?! I _developed_ the use of Traxon for aquatic recoveries. _And_ she took Zack; Zack's mine!"

Booth's head was beginning to ache, and he was feeling a definite irritation with the female gender at the moment. Not so much Brennan, because he understood her perspective, but he knew Cam hadn't really needed to incite a competition between the two of them. Unfortunately the only competitive streak to rival Brennan's happened to belong to her new boss. _And what the fuck is wrong with Rebecca?_

Sensing his agitation, Brennan shifted her focus to the more important matter at hand. She'd heard enough of his conversation to realize that Rebecca was trying to cancel yet another weekend visit, and Brennan immediately worked to calm her own sensibilities.

"What did Rebecca say?"

Booth sighed and recapitulated the conversation, adding that if Rebecca wouldn't answer his questions about Stu or Drew or whatever his name was, he'd find out on his own.

"You're going to run a background check on him?" she asked, a little surprised. "That seems a little much, considering that you allow _me_ to be around Parker when he's with you."

"The difference is that I know you're a good influence, Bones. And you would never overstep a boundary with him, you know? You don't try to push Rebecca out of his life," he defended her.

"So you feel like Rebecca's new romantic partner is trying to push _you_ out of Parker's life?" she surmised.

"I don't know... It feels like she's hiding something, Bones. I just want to know who's spending so much time around my son. She won't really tell me anything about him, and it's not like I haven't been willing to answer pretty much any question she's ever asked me about you."

Brennan carefully pried the iron grip of his right hand loose from the steering wheel and brought his hand to her lap, squeezing it gently.

"It's unfair," she agreed. "And you're absolutely right that you're entitled to know who is contributing to Parker's social and emotional development." Booth heaved a sigh and welcomed the comfort she was offering.

"I just miss him, Bones. It wouldn't be so bad if I was getting time with him like I'm supposed to."

"I know," she agreed, continuing hesitantly, "Maybe… maybe it's time to sit down and talk to her about all of it. Try to come to a reasonable compromise."

Booth contemplated the scenario she presented, and Brennan took his silence as a good sign. In the past, he had mostly shied away at the mention of confronting Rebecca about her behavior. Or else he'd confronted her angrily, which never produced positive results.

Quiet consideration was progress, and she hoped that perhaps he might be ready to accept her help.

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Brennan started her preliminary examination of the remains, gritting her teeth as she heard Cam order Zack around _again_. She may have approved of her new boss's competent handling of the irritating attorney on their last case, but during the week that had passed between that case and this one, Cam had been constantly finding ways to step on Brennan's metaphorical toes.

"Caucasian, female, twenty-five to thirty," Brennan announced. "And barnacle and small muscle incrustation indicates she's been in the water for about a year." Cam made a dissenting noise and pulled back the plastic sheeting from the lower portion of the body.

" _They_ have," Cam corrected, drawing everyone's attention to the skeletal remains of a very small infant.

"God," Booth groaned in horror. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to get his bearings. Brennan was making a similar effort, but her eyes remained open as she examined the tiny bones.

"Size of the fetal bones indicates this fetus was viable."

"How could someone do this to their own kid?" Booth asked. No one had an answer.

Their victim was presumed to be a pregnant woman named Carlie Richardson, a newlywed who had gone missing the year before. Her husband had been the primary suspect, but without a body, there had been no way to prove anything. Booth had told her the story when they'd gotten the call about the crime scene, since they had to expect media coverage.

Brennan and Zack identified multiple fractures, most likely from sharp force trauma to the ribs, manubrium, clavicle, ulna, radius, and sphenoids.

"This was a very violent attack," Brennan commented grimly. Booth still looked a little green but got down to business.

"Find the murder weapon?"

"Not yet. Scoop guys just got here," Cam answered him. Brennan's forehead wrinkled in confusion for a moment, but Cam gestured to the diving team who were preparing to search the lake. Brennan rolled her eyes a little at the nickname, feeling that the last thing she needed was another colleague who spoke in colloquialisms and absurd phrases.

"Tell them to look for a left leg and missing fetal bones," Brennan advised.

"Looks like we finally get to put Richardson away," Cam said with a sigh. "I love being a hero."

"A heroine," Brennan corrected.

"Mmm...sounds too druggy. I'm going with hero." Cam moved to scrape a tool against one of the dead woman's hands.

"Whoa, whoa, _what are you doing?_ " Brennan used one of her own hands to stop her, looking alarmed.

"Scraping the adipocere tissue from the hand," her boss replied as though it should have been obvious.

"No, you could compromise the bone. You should use suction back at the lab," she instructed insistently. "If you want a conviction. It's your call." She raised her hand in the air to amplify her sarcasm.

"Are we gonna have another murder here, or what?" Booth asked nervously. Cam considered them both for a half second and desisted.

"No, no. I have the utmost respect for the doc," she answered, standing up. "Glad she works for me."

Brennan threw a scathing look at Cam's retreating back and gritted her teeth. Booth confirmed the victim's clothing as a match for those that Carlie Richardson was last seen wearing and indicated that the rope still bound to the body could be a match to the type found in Richardson's house.

While they drove back to the lab, Booth was on his cell ordering backup for his next task-picking up their suspect. Brennan didn't ask to join him, and he didn't offer. He knew that her top priority was getting back to the lab to guard the remains against any more of Cam's unwise techniques. He pulled up to the main entrance, and she started to exit the vehicle.

"Hey," he stopped her, crooking his index finger to motion her closer. She smiled reluctantly and leaned in to kiss him. It was quick, but it was enough to soothe them both after a frustrating morning.

"Be careful," she told him seriously, trying to disregard his charm smile.

"Always."

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Booth showed up back at the lab much sooner than expected. The suspect, Kyle Richardson, had made a run for it only minutes before Booth and his team had reached his home. This had certainly not improved Booth's mood, and he hoped that the evidence he was bringing to the squints now could give him a new lead to follow while his agents tracked down the suspect.

He announced the contents of the box he was carrying as he entered the autopsy room, finding the squints analyzing the remains. Brennan's gaze connected with his immediately, and Booth could tell that her day hadn't improved yet either.

"We got the rope, plastic sheeting, knife set with one missing, and Richardson's DNA results."

"File says witnesses placed Richardson at the marina on the bay the night the victim disappeared. Looks like he's not walking away this time, Seeley."

"Ironic, since he's running now," Hodgins chimed in.

"Hodgins, you do know Booth is bigger than you, right?" Angela asked with a smirk.

"Right… Not your fault, dude," he told the surly-looking agent.

"Let's focus, people. This should be a slam dunk," Cam rallied them. "We screw this one up, I'm gonna look like a fool, and someone's gonna have to pay for that."

"We _just_ started collecting evidence," Brennan reminded her coolly.

"There are boxes of evidence. The remains are the icing on the cake." Booth tried not to smile sympathetically at Brennan's irritated expression. Cam talked more like a cop than a scientist, and he knew that his girlfriend was struggling to maintain her patience. "Let's just hand the prosecutor what she needs so I can have a nice weekend throwing back shots and playing poker."

"Yeah, _that_ should motivate us," Brennan said, scowling at Cam's thoughtless remark and wondering if the woman had any idea that Booth had quit gambling since the last time Cam had seen him. Brennan glanced at her partner briefly and caught his reassuring smile. She attempted one of her own, but failed.

The team continued their analysis for a few more minutes before the others left the room, leaving only Brennan, Booth, and Cam. The next time Brennan looked at Booth, he was staring down at the fetal remains with an expression so heartsick that her own chest ached in response. She stripped off her gloves and crossed the room to stand next to him, ignoring the feel of Cam's eyes following her.

"It was a boy," Brennan told him quietly. He nodded. "Are you okay?"

Their eyes met, and he didn't have to answer her out loud for her to understand him. Booth was angry about the case as well as the situation with Parker. It seemed that nothing had gone right since they'd gotten the call about the crime scene. Brennan didn't speak the comfort she was offering him; it wasn't necessary. Since Cam was in the room, she didn't touch him either, but her eyes spoke volumes. He got lost for a few moments in their captivating depths, and Brennan could see the tension easing from him slightly.

Cam watched them surreptitiously, feeling unpleasantly like an intruder in her own office. However, she elected not to say anything until after Brennan had replaced her gloves and resumed her work. Booth announced stiffly that he was going to go talk to Richardson's new girlfriend and left the room.

"He always was a little touchy," Cam commented.

Brennan's answer was no more than a vague, "Yeah," having no desire to compare notes with her regarding Booth. Brennan recalled the way Cam always used his name, and although it seemed to be a running joke between the two of them, Brennan wondered a little nervously if Booth ever wanted _her_ to call him Seeley. It felt odd even to say it in her mind, but she knew that Rebecca called him by his first name as well. Perhaps she would simply ask him, she thought. Brennan glanced at the clock with a sigh, returning her full attention to the remains. It was barely ten, and she already wanted to go home. The thought startled her, and she was unable to remember ever before feeling such an eagerness to leave the lab. Was it due to Cam or Booth?

... _Booth. Definitely Booth._

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After arriving back at the Hoover and giving Charlie the task of running a background check on Rebecca's boyfriend, Booth interviewed Kyle Richardson's girlfriend, Karen. The woman's face was bruised, which only made Booth's intolerance for her boyfriend wane even further. She seemed to be of the stereotype to defend her abuser's actions, however, and that meant that Booth was losing patience with her as well.

He showed her a few photos of the body they'd pulled from the water only that morning in order to gauge her reaction, but she was as outraged and disgusted as any sane person should be. She still claimed that Richardson couldn't possibly have murdered his wife, but Booth wasn't sold on the performance. He instructed her to call him if her boyfriend contacted her in any way, or else risk an obstruction charge at the very least.

Booth checked his watch and grumbled at the too-slow passage to time. This day needed to go faster.

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Brennan had retreated to the Bone Room once the bones were clean, and for the first time that day, she was able to enjoy being at work. Cam seemed to have been testing her patience at every turn, but this room was _her_ domain, and Brennan felt her inner balance returning the longer she stood over the lighted table.

After a little while, Angela drifted into the room wearing a hesitant expression. Brennan spoke first but didn't look up from the bone in her hand.

"Do you have something?"

"Not yet, I just… I wanted to check on you. You've seemed pretty tense today."

"I'm fine," she replied calmly. It was almost true; she was better than the last time Angela had seen her.

"Right, yeah, you're always _fine_ , but today you're also irritable. Bit of a contradiction there, Sweetie."

Brennan ignored that comment and drew the conversation to the case instead, earning a well-deserved eye roll from Angela.

"There's another gash on the second rib, right side. Approximately forty-five degrees, left to right," Brennan told her, demonstrating the fit with a large butcher knife. Angela cringed and shook her head in disgust.

"Why didn't he just divorce her?"

"Some people shouldn't get married in the first place," Brennan replied. Angela was silent for a moment, regarding her friend with a curious tilt of her head.

"Do you ever think about marrying Booth?" She did her best to keep her tone casual, and it seemed to work because Brennan actually answered the question.

"I'd be lying if I said I'd never considered it," she admitted evenly, still studying the bones. "Though I don't really see the need. We're committed to one another without a ceremony or legal document. It wouldn't make our relationship any more real than it already is."

Angela raised her brows in response, but kept quiet as Zack entered with a tray of bone fragments and began discussing the murder weapon with Brennan. Even though Angela knew how much Booth had changed Brennan, she was surprised that her best friend had admitted to considering marriage. She'd certainly come a long way from her 'antiquated ritual' talk. Angela had also caught on to the key word in Brennan's statement. She didn't see the _need_ to get married. That brought an affectionate grin to the artist's face, considering how much Brennan had evolved in the past year.

Angela was quite certain that even if Brennan never got around to comprehending the _need_ to get married, she would eventually come to understand the _want_.

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 **Is Angela right? Hmmm... Review if you loved it. Or if you hated it. Or just to say hi, whatever. ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Welcome back! I enjoyed writing this chapter. And after proofing it, my beta said 'Your smut is getting quite impressive.' haha. Let me know if you agree. :)**

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Chapter 4

Brennan walked from the lab to the diner to meet Booth for lunch, her hand in her jacket pocket clutching the newest piece of evidence they'd discovered. She was sure it would be a lead he'd want to follow, and she was looking forward to getting out of the lab that afternoon.

She spotted him immediately as she entered the through the glass door, and she smiled as she heard his side of the animated phone conversation he was having. As usual when one of their cases involved a child, he'd called to talk to Parker. Brennan knew that what comforted Booth the most was the simple reassurance that his son was healthy and happy in spite of the darkness in the world.

"Yeah, I know there's lots of animals at the zoo… The monkeys-the monkeys are Daddy's favorite. Did you see? They're just like people!" He began to make monkey noises into the phone and Brennan couldn't contain her laughter at his antics. He hadn't noticed her standing beyond his peripheral, but the sound of her laughter drew his attention. He grinned at her and flushed a little.

"Actually, three million base pairs of the genome differ in protein coating and other functional areas," she lectured him, still smiling as she mouthed to the weightress that she'd like her 'usual.' He rolled his eyes playfully at her and smiled a little wider at his son's words.

"Yeah, that was Bones… Sure, hold on." Booth handed her the phone. "Someone wants to talk to you." She laughed as she heard the little boy's cheerful voice on the other end.

"Hi, Bones!" He had gradually dropped the 'Doctor' over the last few months.

"Hey, Parker. How was school today?" Brennan smiled warmly and listened to him chatter about his activities in his morning kindergarten class before he moved on to the next topic.

"Bones, can we go to the aquarium next time I come over?"

"Sure, that sounds a great idea. We haven't been there in a while, have we?"

"No. Plus my friend said they got two new dolphins, and dolphins are your favorite!"

"You're right," she commended with a chuckle. "It's very kind of you to remember."

"Can we go _this_ weekend?" Parker asked hopefully. Brennan faltered, knowing the issue was still unresolved.

"Um, maybe. If not, then definitely next time. I'll let you talk to your dad about that, alright? Love you."

"Love you too, Bones!"

Brennan covered the microphone and filled Booth in on what he'd missed. He looked disheartened as he took the phone back and reassured his son that he would see him very soon. Booth ended the call less than a minute later when Parker informed him that it was his lunch time, and Brennan gazed at him sympathetically.

"Have you talked to Rebecca again yet?" she asked. Booth shook his head and took a drink of his water.

"No, there hasn't been time this morning, and she's at work anyway." Brennan shared his disappointment, but she also noticed that her overall mood had improved after speaking to Parker, just as Booth's usually did.

"I'm sorry, Booth," she told him, knowing that their weekend plans would probably end up canceled after all. "I wish there was something I could do."

"You're here for me, Bones. That's enough." He brought her hand to his lips and smiled when she shivered a little. Booth was glad that she was still so responsive to even the simplest of touches, especially since it was absolutely a mutual condition.

He shifted their focus to the case then, and Brennan explained what she and Cam had found embedded in the victim's lung as well as how it had gotten there. She removed the small evidence bag from her pocket to show him the small silver locket they'd discovered. Booth read the inscription with interest.

"Kenny?" he asked in confusion. Brennan nodded.

"Any reference to a Kenny in the case file?"

"No, but whoever Kenny is liked her enough to get her a locket. Maybe Kyle wasn't the only one who was cheating."

"Opens up a lot of possibilities," she agreed. Booth pocketed the evidence bag and suggested they pay a visit to the victim's friends. Brennan agreed and rose from her seat immediately, only to be stopped by his hand on her arm.

"Bones, finish your lunch first. I don't think a group of playground moms is considered a flight risk. We've got time," he told her. Brennan had gotten better about her eating habits, if for no other reason than to keep Booth from worrying about it, and she smiled back at him indulgently.

"I suppose you're right," she replied, smiling as she stole not one but _three_ fries from his plate.

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It took a few phone calls, but Booth was able to track the group of women to a playground not far from the Richardsons' neighborhood. Mary, Tina, and Faith were more than willing to answer questions about their friend, and all seemed to have given birth around the same time. Faith explained that the four of them, Carlie included, had met in the same lamaze class. She likened the pain of Carlie's loss to that of losing a sister. Tina added that it was Carlie's idea to start the baby playgroup.

"We all felt so connected," Mary said genuinely. "Feeling something growing inside, waiting to meet them… Do you have kids?"

"Yes," Brennan answered promptly. Booth looked over at her and felt a rush of affection at her easy response. He found himself greatly wishing they were alone at that moment.

"They make you feel whole," Mary added with a soft smile.

Brennan didn't respond, slightly distracted by the woman's choice of words. She lost track of the conversation momentarily while her mind replayed a memory of Booth's words to her as they lay in bed together, the very day they had made love for the first time...and the second and third. " _I'm damaged too. Maybe we both are. But somehow… we make each other whole."_

Booth saw his partner's eyes grow soft and distant, but he continued the interview. Apparently 'Kenny' had been the victim's dog. Kyle Richardson had backed over it with his car, supposedly on accident, and Mary-who was a veterinarian-had 'taken care of it.' Booth thanked them for their help and gave each woman a business card, instructing them to let him know if they happened to think of anything else that might help the case.

As the partners walked back to the SUV, Booth's hand gravitated toward the small of Brennan's back, and she acknowledged his touch with a loving smile.

"You okay?" he asked. "You got a little distracted back there."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I did hear what she said about the dog…" They climbed into the vehicle and began to make their way back to the lab.

"Something on your mind?" The content expression on her face told him there was no need for concern, but he was certainly curious. He wondered if the woman bringing up the subject of parenthood had thrown her off somehow.

"Not really," Brennan answered a little evasively. "Just a phrase that triggered a memory… and I got a little lost in it, metaphorically speaking." Booth smiled and tried to remember the woman's exact words.

"A good memory?"

"Yes," she smiled sweetly. "You… Talking about how we make each other whole." Booth grinned appreciatively and reached over to hold her hand.

"Still true, baby," he replied. "Still true."

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After they filled Cam in on what they'd learned from the victim's friends, Hodgins popped his head in to inform them that the victim's body had been in freshwater for at least six months following her death before moving somehow to the saltwater in which the body had been found. This threw a wrinkle in Booth's theory that Kyle Richardson had committed the murder based on a witness account of his presence at the Delaware Bay marina the night his wife went missing. There were no freshwater sources near that bay, so if Carlie had been killed near freshwater, then Kyle wasn't the person responsible.

"What the hell's going on here?" Cam demanded. "Richardson is the only logical suspect. Are we working for the defense now?"

"I'm working for the victims, and we have to be open to the evidence as it presents itself," Brennan replied adamantly.

"The knife, the rope, and the plastic sheeting are all from Richardson's house; that's been confirmed. We're trying to build a case here, people."

"Don't ignore the facts just because it might change the outcome of the case," Brennan replied, irritated that Cam seemed to be more interested in pinning the murder on _some_ one, rather than finding the truth.

"Not asking you to. I just want you to fill in the blanks. There must be freshwater close enough for Richardson to have dumped the body."

Hodgins rattled off the requisite content of the freshwater they'd need to find in order for it to match the evidence, and Cam instructed that they find it quickly. She stalked back to her office, leaving both scientists feeling rather perturbed.

"I'll help Ange track down a body of freshwater that fits the parameters," Hodgins told her. "If we find anything, you and I can check it out tomorrow?"

"That's fine," Brennan agreed. "Let me know.

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Hodgins and Angela came through with a body of water for a possible dump location, and Brennan received a text from Hodgins early the next morning with the details. Before leaving the house, Brennan stuffed her bathing suit into her shoulder bag while she waited for Booth to fill their travel coffee mugs. The possibility of getting the diving team to help them on such short notice was slim, and Brennan knew the search and recovery of the missing bones would be her responsibility. It had been a while since she'd done any diving that required an oxygen tank, but other than Hodgins, she was the only one certified. And he would be busy collecting his own evidence.

Booth dropped her off at the lab, having explained that he needed to touch base with Cullen about the case and would meet her and Hodgins in an hour or so. Hodgins was ready to leave when she walked in, armed with both of their field kits and a wetsuit. They decided to take the mobile lab so that Brennan would have a place to change once they arrived, and she texted the location to Booth on the way.

Booth was slightly confused as he followed Brennan's directions to a golf course. _This can't be right…_ He found them easily enough however; the large RV belonging to the Medico-Legal lab was unmistakable. He also quickly spotted Hodgins wading in one of the ponds to collect samples, but there was no sign of Brennan.

"So this is the only freshwater near the bay?" he asked Hodgins dubiously.

"The only body of water that might have algae and sediment which could match what we found on the remains."

"Great… Where's Bones?"

Before Hodgins could answer, the woman in question surfaced a few feet from him in full diving gear. Booth looked surprised, wondering if she'd mentioned that she would be the one doing the recovery and he'd somehow missed it. She'd told him about some of the diving she'd done in the past, but the sight of her climbing out of the water with a container of small bones she'd recovered still made him shake his head in admiration of her gumption.

"Find something, Bones?"

"Possible fetal bones," she answered, showing him the contents of the box. "Hamate, triquetral...portions of the phalanges. Lots of golf balls down there too," she smirked.

Brennan made her way back to the RV and opened the back doors, setting the evidence container inside and reaching into her bag for the towel she'd remembered to grab before leaving the lab earlier. Booth had followed her but stood several feet away with his back to her, talking to one of his junior agents. At a certain point, however, the young man seemed to no longer hear his boss's instructions, and Booth was confused by his dazed expression. He followed the agent's gaze and was alarmed to see his girlfriend working to peel off her wetsuit, wearing nothing but her very skimpy bikini underneath.

"Bones!" He hurried back to her side and stood between her and the thirty or so agents and other personnel who were at the scene. "What are you doing? We're in _public!_ "

Her brow furrowed in confusion, but when she got a look at his face, she understood his behavior.

"Booth, it's just a bathing suit. It's the same one I wore to the beach," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah _I know that_ , Bones, but now half my co-workers have seen it too." Someone whistled, and he turned his head to glower in that direction. She couldn't help but laugh at his antics. At least she wasn't the only one feeling possessive lately. If they hadn't been in a professional setting, she'd have wrapped her arms around him and reminded him how very unnecessary his jealousy was. _Later,_ she thought ruefully.

"You have nothing to worry about," she told him quietly, letting her eyes convey her full meaning. He sighed in resignation, trying his damndest to fight his own arousal at the sight of her near-nudity.

"I know, but still… Why can't you get dressed inside?"

"I will, but I didn't want to carry half the lake in with me," she answered, gesturing to the dripping wetsuit now in her hand. "I'll just be a minute."

Brennan climbed up into the RV, unwittingly giving an even better show of her body as she did so, and Booth helped her to close the double doors behind her. He directed his patented stare-down to the ten or twelve agents who seemed to have migrated slowly toward the RV, and they dispersed nervously, whispering amongst themselves.

At this rate, the story of his reaction to his partner stripping down at a crime scene would be all over the Hoover by closing time.

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While Brennan and Hodgins returned to the lab to analyze the new evidence, Booth returned to the Hoover to talk to one of the agents who was searching for Kyle Richardson. No sooner had he finished that discussion, however, than the victim's parents showed up unexpectedly to give Booth a picture they'd found.

Although Kyle Richardson's new girlfriend had claimed never to have met the victim, the photograph clearly depicted both husband and wife smiling for the camera and his current girlfriend staring at them in the background. She'd lied about knowing the couple before Carlie's death. Booth thanked Carlie's parents and promised to do everything in his power to find the person responsible for their daughter's death.

As Booth made his way back to his office, Brennan called his cell, informing him that the bones she'd recovered turned out to belong to a raccoon, and Hodgins' evidence didn't match up either. They were back at square one. She did seem fairly excited about an experiment that she and Zack had cooked up, however, and she claimed that his help was needed. He promised to head that way in a few minutes.

"Seeley, you son of a bitch," came a familiar voice from behind him. Booth groaned. _Rebecca. Just what I need today._ She was pissed, that much was obvious, and Booth didn't have to think too hard for the reason. "You sent agents to investigate Drew? Because you're going to stop that _now_."

"Okay, listen, I'm just being cautious. What do you really know about this guy anyway?" Charlie had given him the results of the background check that morning, but he hadn't mentioned anyone else's involvement. Rebecca walked steadily toward him, backing him into the front of his desk.

"I know that he has a good job, and I know that he fixes stuff around the house when he says he's going to. I know that Parker is crazy about him, and he's not terrified every time he goes off to work that he's going to get _shot_. And I know that I love him. _I love him_. And now everyone at work thinks he's a _criminal_."

"Well, he's been spotted with explosives…"

"He's a construction foreman; he does demolition! You must've figured that out when you were doing all your snooping."

"Okay, well I have a right to know who's around my son, alright? He spends more time with Parker than _I_ do." Booth knew that she was angry, but damn it, so was he. She hadn't been willing to volunteer the information, so he'd found a way to get it himself.

"I don't even have to let you see Parker, okay? Not...not _legally_. That's one of the upsides of not being married."

Booth's blood chilled considerably.

" _Don't."_ His eyes darkened, and Rebecca stepped back a little in surprise. "I'm a good father. _You know that_." She regarded him with pursed lips for a moment.

"You've got to stop trying to run things. I've got things in my life that have nothing to do with you." She turned to leave, but Booth grabbed her arm lightly to stop her.

"Look, we are always going to have something to do with one another because we _share a son_."

"Drew's a good man," she insisted. "And you need to back off or you're not gonna see Parker again, I swear. _Back off_."

Booth let her leave and stared after her with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't meant to piss her off, but he still felt that his concerns had warranted his actions. Her secrecy hadn't made sense, and he was an FBI agent. If he wanted answers to something, he was damned well going to get them one way or another. Booth supposed he should've been a little more clear in his instructions to Charlie, made sure he'd understood that the inquiry was to be less conspicuous, but it was too late for that now.

 _What am I going to do if she stops Parker's weekends completely?_ Booth fretted. _Can she really do that? ...Damn it._

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Booth actually approved of the experiment Brennan and her squints had set up. He was _really_ in the mood to stab something. The group assembled on the platform and took turns stabbing a physical replica of the victim, which was even dressed in similar clothing. Most of them took their turns stoically, but Angela squealed in revulsion as she spastically stabbed the replica.

The results were surprising. The simulated attack which best matched the real murder was Angela's. This indicated fairly conclusively that Kyle Richardson wasn't their killer, and Booth relayed the information he'd gotten from Carlie's parents, adding that Karen Tyler was also similar to Angela's build. Cam interjected that the victim had DNA evidence from two people under her fingernails. One was Kyle, but the other was an unknown woman.

Booth made a call to have Karen Tyler brought in for questioning and pulled Brennan out of the lab. While Booth questioned her, Brennan obtained the DNA sample, but neither task yielded anything useful to the case. Karen didn't give them any new information to speak of, and her DNA results wouldn't be in until the following day.

It was getting late, and both partners wanted to call it a night, but Hodgins had called Brennan insisting that they stop back by the lab on their way home. When they arrived, Hodgins and Angela immediately began to explain how evidence had led them to the precise location of the murder site. Flash flooding had carried the victim's body from a New Jersey creek into the Delaware River and, eventually, to the Delaware Bay where she'd been discovered.

Brennan thanked them for their excellent work and told them they would go out with a team to investigate the site the following morning. On their way home, Booth called and made the arrangements for the forensic team to travel to New Jersey, and Brennan waited patiently for him to finish the call.

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When Booth had shown up to help them with their simulation, she had recognized that something was bothering him, but they hadn't had enough privacy for her to bring it up until now. They'd gotten some take-out to bring home, and once their food cartons were laid out on the coffee table in front of them, Brennan stated the obvious.

"Something happened earlier," she stated bluntly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Booth sighed, unsurprised that she brought it up. She'd been looking at him solicitously when he'd arrived at the lab, but he'd given her a dismissive shake of his head.

"Rebecca came by my office right after you called about the experiment," he answered grimly.

"Is Parker okay?" she asked quickly, knowing it wasn't typical for Booth's ex to show up at work.

"Yeah, he's fine," Booth gave a half smile at her concern. "She was pissed about the background check I did on her boyfriend. Apparently Charlie was a little overzealous and actually went to the guy's workplace to ask questions." Brennan cringed slightly, feeling sympathy for the unknown man. It wasn't his fault he'd been caught in the middle of an argument between his girlfriend and her ex.

"I can see how that would make her angry," Brennan agreed. "But I still don't think you're out of bounds for wanting to know who Parker is spending time with. If Rebecca had been more open about things, you'd have had no reason to seek alternative means of getting the information."

Booth smiled a little at her defense of his actions as well as her correct use of the phrase 'out of bounds.' She'd really been getting better at those colloquialisms lately.

"Yeah, well she was pretty pissed. She said… she said that she doesn't have to let me see Parker. And that if I don't stop prying into her personal life, I'll never see him again." His voice was ragged with emotion and worry, and Brennan's arms went around him immediately. Booth savored the comfort and reassurance of her embrace, trying to keep his stress under control. This worry had been eating at him for hours, and it felt good to share the burden of it.

Brennan was doing some quick thinking as she held him tightly. She'd been doing some research since they'd had their first conversation about his parental rights, but she had known that Booth hadn't been ready to discuss it. _Was he ready now?_

"Booth…" She pulled back, and her hands slid down his arms until they joined with his. "I have some...thoughts about this situation, and I want you to try to keep an open mind. Okay?" She waited for him to nod before continuing. "Although Rebecca may be technically correct in what she said, if she really wanted to keep Parker away from you, then she shouldn't have allowed you to sign his birth certificate. You had to have paternity established in order to do that, right?" Booth nodded again. "That's good. But there are no legal custody documents to dictate parenting time or child support obligations, so as it stands right now, neither of you are legally obligated to do anything. You pay child support directly to her because it's the right thing to do, but no court has ordered you to do so or set the appropriate amount. Rebecca allows you to see your son when it's convenient for her, and no court has ordered _her_ to do otherwise. The only way to establish your rights to parenting time would be to go to family court, at which time a judge would also establish a legal child support order because they won't do one without the other."

Booth listened to her attentively, surprised by how much she knew about all of this, and he realized that she'd been researching.

"You've been looking into this?" he asked with interest. She nodded, slightly nervous.

"I educated myself about family court practices in the District because I expected that eventually you would want to legalize your visitations rights with Parker. It…it doesn't have to be a nasty court battle, Booth. If all parties agree on a plan, it would actually be a fairly simple matter. We can draw up the agreement ourselves, and under most circumstances, a judge will simply approve it. The court generally requires paternity to be established if the parents weren't married to one another at the time of the child's birth, but if that's already been done, then we shouldn't have to worry about that.

"I've also been... well, keeping track… of when Rebecca has canceled on you and the reasons she gave. Do you realize that out of the last nine months, you've only gotten to see Parker for _eight_ of the _eighteen_ scheduled weekends?"

"No…" Booth was surprised at how diligently she'd kept track of that, realizing that she must've started right after they got together. He'd never asked her to do that. "Why did you keep record?" His tone held only surprise, and Brennan was glad he wasn't upset with her for taking the initiative. She shrugged a little before answering.

"I figured that when the time came to change tactics with Rebecca, it would be good to have the numbers on our side."

Booth smiled approvingly, noticing that she kept using words like 'we' and 'our.' She was including herself in this issue, supporting him the only way she'd known how: educating herself and sharing her knowledge. He wondered if she knew how much that meant to him, and he squeezed her hand as she kept talking.

"It would be better if we could get Rebecca to agree without going to court, but even if she doesn't, it won't matter. If paternity has been established through the court, then you have a _legal right_ to your child no matter what Rebecca wants. It only becomes a question of how much time you want with him… If you want to simply maintain what the current schedule is _supposed_ to be, without all of the ridiculous cancellations, or if you want to push for more time."

Booth nodded, processing everything she'd said and still amazed at the lengths to which she'd gone in the interest of helping him.

"I love you, baby. You're incredible," he sighed. "You've definitely given me a lot to think about. I don't know if I'm ready for a fight right now, but the thought of it doesn't scare me as much as it did." He pulled her gently onto his lap, feeling the need to hold her properly. "Thank you so much, Bones. Sometimes I really can't believe how lucky I am to have you."

He kissed her gently, and her arms wove their way over his shoulders and around his neck. She moaned softly against his lips, tracing the contours with the tip of her tongue, and he moaned back before pulling back slightly.

"Let's go to bed," he smiled seductively. She nodded at his suggestion and squirmed strategically on his lap.

"Your mood seems to have improved," she commented with a provocative grin of her own.

"Oh, trust me, I've been thinking about coming home with you tonight ever since your little striptease at the golf course this morning."

Brennan responded with a husky chuckle that sent a thrill all the way to his toes, and he inhaled her delicious scent deeply as she leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

"I don't tease."

Booth groaned and buried his face against her neck, instantly hardening to the point that it was almost painful. He curled his arms beneath her and stood to carry her up to their bedroom, flipping light switches as he went.

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He practically kicked open their bedroom door, refusing to lift his mouth from hers until it was absolutely necessary in order to remove their clothing. They were naked in seconds and tumbled roughly to the bed, still kissing passionately. Booth's hands traveled greedily over her exposed skin, touching her as he'd so desperately wanted to the moment he'd seen her in that bikini. She gasped as his fingertips found their way to her center, arching her back erotically and practically begging him to touch her. Begging was unnecessary.

He slipped a thick finger into her and teased lightly, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the soft flesh of her jaw, to her neck, and still further to her chest. Brennan's hips moved of their own accord, encouraging him to reach deeper within her. She felt her pulse spike erratically when he added a second finger and moved his thumb to circle her clit rhythmically. Brennan gripped his shoulders reflexively as the first waves of pleasure overtook her, and she shouted involuntarily at the intensity of it.

Booth gently withdrew his fingers but kept his eyes on her face as he brought them to his mouth, enjoying the taste of her as well as the whimper she let slip out as she watched him. She leaned up to kiss him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue, and he very nearly lost control at the sensuality of it.

"Oh, _God_ , Bones," he moaned when their lips had parted. "That's hot, baby."

"Take me, Booth. Right now. I want you…"

He gasped appreciatively at her words and settled himself between her thighs. Brennan whined impatiently as he entered her slowly, quickly wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling their bodies together. Booth leaned over her to seize her lips once more, and he began a slow but deep rhythm, pushing his arms beneath her until his weight rested on his elbows and his hands curled back over her shoulders. He pulled her body against his with each thrust, sliding so deeply into her that she felt the tip of him brushing her cervix.

Brennan's pleasure escalated with each slow push of his hips until she was careening over the edge of reason a second time, practically screaming his name in ecstasy. Booth felt her shudder beneath him and knew he was close.

He unwound his arms from beneath her and lifted his torso from hers, taking hold of a leg in each hand and bringing them together against his chest. Her ankles rested together against his shoulder, and he wrapped both arms around her thighs, pulling upward until her hips were lifted off the mattress. The new angle allowed him to push even deeper into her center, and his hips set a new, faster rhythm. Brennan's mouth gaped open in silent astonishment at the intense passion of his movements as he pounded into her relentlessly.

He came forcefully, flooding her and leaving her trembling. Booth gently released his hold on her legs and eased them back to his sides. He leaned down to kiss her softly, adoring the tiny kitten-like noises emanating from her throat. When he finally collapsed onto the bed beside her, she moved into the circle of his arms instinctively, and they held one another as their heart rates slowed.

Brennan's fingers played lightly over the contours of his chest, and she smiled happily when he shivered a little at the contact. Booth turned his head to meet her gaze and was once again struck by how incredibly lucky he was to have her love. He got lost in her eyes for a few moments and realized a little belatedly that she was smirking at him.

"What?" he asked, laughing a little at her expression.

"I was just thinking that your alpha male possessiveness definitely has its advantages."

Booth smiled wider and pulled her a little more tightly against him.

"You love me," he teased. Her dazzling smile made his breath catch in his throat.

"I do."

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 **So Brennan has been keeping score on Rebecca for nine months! hehe. Does that surprise you? Hope it doesn't seem OOC. It's what I would have done (and _have_ done for the sake of my own kids). **

**If you've got a second, please review. Have a wonderful weekend and see you Sunday for Ch 5!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Good morning! Or whatever time it happens to be where you are, that is. I won't lie, this chapter gave me some trouble, but I've been assured that I must have been making a big deal over nothing. We've got drama, fluff, and a new case. I know you're all hating Cam and Rebecca right now, and yes, things have to get worse before they'll get better, but hang in there!**

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Chapter 5

The sweep of the original murder site in New Jersey was productive, and to the surprise of both partners, the evidence indicated that the victim had come to the place willingly. While Hodgins took the evidence back to the lab for analysis, Booth and Brennan went to have another chat with the victim's friends.

The three women were surprised to learn that their friend had known the woman Kyle Richardson had been cheating with, and Faith mentioned that Carlie had confessed to not wanting the baby she'd been carrying. Mary, the veterinarian who had assisted with the victim's dog, studied the picture of Karen and said that she felt she had seen the woman around the time that Carlie had disappeared.

When they returned to the lab, Cam informed them that Karen's DNA wasn't a match for the evidence under the victim's nails. Perhaps more troubling was the presence of an antidepressant in the bloodstream of the fetus.

"It's not weird," Brennan remarked as she looked at the file. "Carlie Richardson was having emotional problems with her husband."

"Carlie Richardson wasn't taking the drug," Cam contradicted. Booth was having trouble following.

"Hold on, none of this is making any sense."

"I agree," Cam stated. "The only way the fetus could have the drug in its system is if it were passed from the mother in utero."

"Or through breast milk," Brennan added.

"How do you breastfeed an unborn child?" Booth asked, still confused. Brennan gave him a look he'd learned to recognize: she was on to something. She hurried toward the platform, calling for Zack.

"An infant's skull is made up of several separate bones that are eventually fused together," she announced to the group, holding up the fetal skull on a tray. "What do you see?" she asked Zack.

"Oh, my God," he groaned.

"I don't believe it," Cam added, looking at the skull in shock.

"Okay, now everybody knows but me," Booth complained.

"This is not a fetus," Brennan explained. "The skull bones have shifted and overlapped because this child passed through the birth canal. This baby was born alive and lived about...two weeks," she concluded.

"But Carlie was pregnant when she was last seen."

"This isn't Carlie Richardson's child. The escitalopram in its system came from breast milk."

"Then what happened to her baby?" Cam interjected. Brennan glanced at Booth reluctantly before answering.

"The baby was...cut out of her and stolen. This child replaced it." She examined the skull under the medial cam and looked at Zack. "This child was dead before Carlie was murdered. You can see the traces of blood pooling in the cranium."

"Abusive head trauma," Zack concurred.

"Evidence of Shaken Baby Syndrome."

Cam theorized that the baby's mother must have been taking medication for postpartum depression, had gotten upset when the baby wouldn't stop crying, and had shaken him to quiet him down. Brennan nodded and added that it would've taken as little as five seconds. The thought of it sickened Booth, and he involuntarily recalled Parker's colicky spell as an infant. As exhausting and stressful as it had been, Booth couldn't imagine doing anything to hurt his son.

He turned his attention back to the conversation and heard Brennan asking Angela to do a facial reconstruction of the infant in attempt to see genetic similarities which might lead them to the mother. His phone chirped from inside his pocket, and Booth answered a phone call from one of his agents. The news was good.

"They found Kyle Richardson," he told the group as he snapped the phone shut. He looked at Brennan, preparing to ask if she wanted to come along, but she was already snapping off her latex gloves and walking toward him.

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Brennan observed her partner cautiously from the passenger seat, knowing that the story of the infant's death had distressed him. Booth was clenching the steering wheel and glaring at the vehicle in front of them.

"I wonder if he'll even care, you know… Finding out that his wife is dead," he muttered.

"He didn't kill her."

"No, but he ran. How do you just cut your family out of your life like that?"

Brennan considered that for a moment, having no answer for him. Whatever the reasoning, her own family had done that to her. _She_ had done it to Russ. But those hadn't really been the same types of situations. Brennan inhaled slowly, trying to determine what she could say to help him feel better. When faced with life's more profound questions, Booth found his comfort in his faith, and though Brennan had studied many religions as anthropological concepts, she felt a little out of her element when it came to discussing it with Booth.

"Well… What about Abraham?" she asked tentatively.

"You want to talk about religion right now?" he replied incredulously. He knew she respected his beliefs, but it was still something they didn't talk about often.

"I thought you found answers in what you believe."

"Well, I mean… that's one Bible story I just don't like. I mean, God commands Abraham to kill his own son, and he does."

"No, Abraham does not kill Isaac."

Booth raised his brows in slight surprise at her knowledge of the story.

"But old Abe, you know… he had the _intention_."

"I thought what he had was faith," she replied evenly.

"Look, I have faith. But if God Himself came down, pointed at Parker and said 'I want you to…' you know… That ain't gonna happen."

"But God's messenger stopped Abraham," she pointed out.

"Yeah, grabbed his hand at the last second."

"Okay, so… the lesson I would learn from the story is that when it comes to your children, your love has to be absolute," Brennan explained. "The messenger represents goodness, what you know to be right… Ergo, you have to remain open to what you know is true."

Booth chuckled softly and smiled at her. If ever there was anyone to remind him of the goodness in the world, it was her.

"Are you sure you're not religious?" he teased.

"Science all the way," she grinned back.

"Science all the way."

"Hey, even an empiricist can have a heart, Booth." He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.

"Bones, you have a bigger heart than anyone I know." Brennan's pulse skipped erratically at the open adoration she could see in his twinkling eyes, and she felt an immense gratitude that Booth, unlike so many others in her life, had taken the time to truly understand her heart.

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The partners sat across from Kyle Richardson in the interrogation room, and Booth was feeling quite a bit less irate than he'd been before his conversation with Brennan. His partner, on the other hand, looked back at Richardson with an expression of absolute disgust.

"We know you didn't do it," Booth told the man flatly.

"What?" Richardson looked shocked.

"Evidence doesn't fit you."

"Then who was it? Who killed them?"

"You ran," Brennan pointed out. "Seems like you'd be the one to know."

"I would've told someone if I knew," he insisted.

"Right. 'Cause, you know, you're such an honorable guy," Booth replied sarcastically. "The knife, the rope, the plastic sheeting… It all came from your place, and why didn't you tell the police it was missing?"

"What, do you check out what's in _your_ garage every day?" Richardson scoffed.

"If you didn't know anything, why'd you take off?"

"Because I'm a bastard," he spat sardonically. "I'm a selfish, pathetic bastard, and everyone had already decided I was guilty."

"That's true, Booth."

"Bones," he admonished.

"No one wanted to find another suspect," she pointed out, turning back to Richardson. "I kept insisting." Brennan still felt some residual irritation with Cam for her narrow-mindedness in pursuing only Richardson as a suspect.

"Thank you."

"I didn't do it for you. You _are_ a pathetic bastard. Your wife was having your baby." Brennan pursed her lips as Richardson swore that although he had wanted to leave his wife, he'd never have wanted her and his son to die. Booth seemed to believe him when he insisted again that he had no idea who had killed his wife and son, and Richardson became overwhelmed with emotion at the thought that it might not have happened if he'd been with Carlie that night.

"We think your child might still be alive," Brennan said, watching him carefully. Richardson's initial confusion shifted to outright shock as Brennan explained that his son had been stolen right out of his wife's womb. Richardson demanded to know where his son was now, but neither partner had an answer to that yet. They allowed him to leave with the agreement to keep in touch should something new come up.

When they arrived back at the lab, Angela was ready with the infant skull reconstruction. Unfortunately, the face looked like that of just about every other caucasian baby. To solve that issue, Angela had run the image through an aging program, and when the face shifted to that of a boy around ten years old, Booth and Brennan simultaneously recognized the more prominent features. They'd seen them in the face of Carlie Richardson's friend, Mary Corbis.

The arrest went smoothly, although the woman became extremely emotional. At first, she had simply denied the accusation, but after Brennan mentioned a warrant to obtain a DNA sample, Mary changed her tune fairly quickly. She claimed that Carlie hadn't wanted her baby, that she hadn't meant to kill her own son, and that she was a good mother.

After the arrest was made, Booth and Brennan met Kyle Richardson at the Hoover and introduced him to his son. For a moment, it appeared that Richardson might take the coward's way out of his responsibility, but Booth spoke up to set him straight.

"You don't get to decide that. You have a son. Step up."

Brennan watched Richardson hold his son for a few seconds, but her attention was quickly drawn back to her partner. She smiled at him with a rush of pride and hoped he realized what a good man he was.

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Brennan sat across from Booth at the diner as they waited for Rebecca to stop by with Parker. Rebecca hadn't relented about keeping his scheduled weekend visit, but apparently Parker had wanted to show Booth and Brennan the diorama he'd made for school. Not long after the waitress had poured their coffee, Parker came bounding through the doors and over to their table.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"

"Parker!" Booth greeted him, boosting the little boy up to sit on his lap.

"Look what I did." Parker pointed proudly to his diorama of an animal habitat, and both partners smiled in approval.

"Wow! Look at that!" Booth glanced toward the door where Rebecca and Drew were hovering. "Hey, why don't you tell Bones about your project while I go talk to your mom real quick, okay?"

Parker nodded, and after his father scooted him off his lap, the boy promptly climbed onto Brennan's instead. She did her best to distract him from the heated conversation behind them, but the general tone of it was not missed by either Parker or Brennan. She attempted to get Booth's attention a several times, and when he finally made eye contact, she silently communicated her opinion that he should try to be civil in front of his son. He seemed to have gotten the message, and a few moments later, all four adults were seated at the table.

"Can we all go to the zoo tomorrow?" The question was directed primarily at Booth, who looked at Rebecca for approval. She hesitated only a moment before nodding, and Parker cheered excitedly. "Drew knows a lot about the animals. Almost as much as Bones!" he told them happily. Everyone laughed or smiled in response, though Rebecca couldn't resist a bit of an eye roll.

"Well, maybe afterwards we could… all go out to dinner if it's okay with your mom," Booth suggested. Parker looked at his mother hopefully.

"Yeah," Rebecca answered in surprise. "That...that sounds good."

"Mommy, can I stay with Daddy tonight? I haven't seen my new room yet!" he begged.

Though Booth and Brennan had moved in July, Parker had still only seen the house without furniture. They had set up his room for him, but Rebecca had consistently canceled every visit since. Parker had put her on the spot with his request, and in light of Booth's cordial behavior, she felt that she couldn't really say no. Booth saw Drew give her a gentle nudge with his elbow.

"That's fine, Parker. We can meet at the zoo around...two?" She directed the question primarily at Booth, seeming to ignore Brennan for the most part. He did no such thing, however, and looked to his girlfriend for approval of the plan. Brennan nodded with a smile, happy that Booth would finally be getting a little time with his son.

The five of them chatted awkwardly for a while before Drew and Rebecca left, and Parker became gradually more excited to see the new house. By the time they actually pulled into the driveway, he was bouncing ecstatically in his seat.

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"You remember where your room is, buddy?" Booth asked as he ushered his little family inside.

"Yup!" he shouted. Booth and Brennan heard the rapid thumping of Parker's feet as he climbed the stairs, followed by a cry of 'Awesome!'

Booth grinned happily at his girlfriend and stole a quick kiss before she pulled him upstairs to join his son. As they neared the top step, the light in Parker's room was extinguished, and they moved curiously to his doorway. The little boy was lying on his bed in the dark, and Booth flipped the light switch back on in confusion.

"Parker, why are you sitting in the dark?" he chuckled.

"No, turn it back off, Daddy! I'm looking at the stars." Booth complied and glanced toward the ceiling where Parker was pointing. He'd forgotten Brennan's addition of glow-in-the-dark stars to the area right above the twin size bed.

"Look, that's the Big Dipper!"

Brennan laughed lightly as Booth turned to look at her in surprise. She couldn't see his expression in the dark, but she knew what he was thinking.

"You made actual constellations?" Booth asked her incredulously.

"Certainly. Not all of them, but just the ones we see for most of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. And my favorite one."

"Which one is your favorite?"

"Delphinus!" Parker answered for her, pointing off to the left slightly. "It's that one, right Bones?"

"Very good, Parker."

Brennan was impressed that he remembered the simple astronomy lesson she'd given him on one of their weekends together earlier that spring. It was one of several subjects in which Parker had shown interest, so in addition to teaching him how to read, they'd discussed the moon and planets, meteorology, and a little geology. Parker was endlessly questioning, and he loved that 'Bones' always had an answer.

"That's Bones' favorite 'cause she loves dolphins," the boy declared confidently. Booth grinned with pride and pulled Brennan into his arms, taking advantage of the darkness as well as his son's distraction.

"That's very impressive, buddy, good job. Did you look at the rest of your room before you turned the light off?"

"Yeah, but you can turn the light back on now," Parker replied. Brennan reached for the switch, and they all blinked a little spastically as their eyes adjusted. "Did you bring _all_ of my stuff from the old house?"

"You bet, kiddo. All of your toys, your books, your clothes. Everything's here."

Parker gave his room a more thorough examination than the cursory glance he'd made before noticing the stars and turning the light off. There wasn't a particular theme as was the common practice in most children's rooms. Instead, there were elements of all of Parker's favorite things. His favorite toys were displayed prominently, a few pieces of sports memorabilia and a handful of picture frames decorated the shelves, and his bed was the one from Booth's apartment, the trundle still tucked away beneath it.

It was nearly Parker's bedtime, so Booth encouraged him to brush his teeth, put his pajamas on, and pick out a bedtime story. The boy whined a bit about having to go to bed already, but Booth held firm. A trip to the zoo with Rebecca and her boyfriend would be uncomfortable enough even if Parker was well-rested and well-behaved.

Getting Parker settled took a little longer than usual, most likely owing to the fact that it was his first night in a new place. Booth reassured his son that their bedroom was right down the hall and showed him the nightlights they'd placed in his room, the bathroom, and the hallway in between.

It had been a while since Parker's last visit, so Booth gently reminded him to knock on their bedroom door when he woke up in the morning. Brennan smirked as she overheard Booth's instruction, wondering what he had in mind that might necessitate a closed door. She took her turn kissing Parker goodnight and waited for Booth in their room.

A few minutes later, Booth entered and closed the door behind him, spotting Brennan digging through her pajama drawer for pants to match the shirt she was already holding.

"You won't need those," he whispered as he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Brennan smiled and tilted her head a little to look up at him.

"No?"

"No." Booth pressed a line of open-mouthed kisses to her neck, tightening his hold on her and drawing a soft moan from her throat.

"We should probably give Parker time to fall asleep, don't you think?" she asked. Her actions contradicted her words as she lifted her arms so that he could remove her shirt.

"He knows to knock," Booth replied, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her pants and pushing them past the curves of her hips until they fell to the floor.

"Yes, but…" she gasped as his hand drifted low into her panties. "You know we're not very good at keeping quiet." He responded with a husky laugh that made her ache for him a little more.

"I know, baby. But the challenge is part of the fun."

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"Booth?"

"Mmm?" he grunted back sleepily. They were lying in one another's arms, completely spent, and in the silence, her mind had drifted back to the case they'd just closed and a question she hadn't gotten around to asking him.

"Do you want me to call you Seeley?"

"What?" he asked, looking down at her in surprised confusion.

"It's just… I noticed that Cam calls you that, even though you don't seem to like it when she does, and Rebecca calls you by your first name also. So is that something you prefer in your romantic relationships?"

Booth smiled and kissed her forehead lightly, understanding her logic now. What he didn't understand was the insecurity shining back in her beautiful blue eyes.

"Bones… you're different than anyone I've ever been with. Our _relationship_ is different than any I've ever had before. The former rules don't apply." Brennan considered that for a moment but still seemed slightly troubled.

"So… even in bed?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. He chuckled and captured her lips with his own, kissing her deeply and for nearly long enough to make her forget the question.

"Even here, Bones. Honestly, I can't imagine you calling me by my first name in any scenario. It doesn't feel right."

"I agree," she replied with a smile, glad that he shared her opinion.

"Just so we're all clear though… do you want me to call you Temperance? Or Tempe?" He couldn't help the slight wince at the second name, knowing as he said it that he could never call her that. Brennan didn't miss the face he made and laughed happily, moving in for another kiss.

"No, definitely not Tempe," she assured him. "That sounds strange coming from you. And you do call me Temperance sometimes, usually when you want to make sure I'm paying attention, I think." He smiled in approval at her perceptiveness.

"That's true," he said. "And I don't think you've minded being called Bones in a pretty long time."

"No… I like that you're the only one who calls me that. Well, you and Parker. But no one else I've been with has ever given me a nickname. It's...special." If the moonlight were brighter, Booth would have been able to see the flush in her cheeks.

"It _is_ special," Booth agreed, kissing her once more. "You make it special."

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Brennan pursed her lips in speculation for probably the tenth time that day and vehemently wished that she were better at reading people. Was she really this bad at it or was Rebecca really flirting with Booth? Brennan felt at a loss, much as she had over the past week or so when Cam had made ambiguous comments to Booth in her presence. With Cam, it was never as blatant as it had been at that first crime scene, and Booth rarely seemed to notice it, so Brennan assumed she was reading her new boss incorrectly.

She was only slightly more certain about Rebecca's behavior, and the only reason for it was Booth's reaction to his ex's occasional touches and word choices. Drew looked equally uncomfortable, particularly at the way Rebecca appeared to shift back and forth from lightly flirting with Booth to overtly flirting with Drew. At one point, Booth seemed to have decided Rebecca might be less likely to invade his personal space if that space was already occupied by Brennan. It worked for the most part, but Brennan couldn't help but notice the fact that Rebecca avoided eye contact with her rather diligently.

When the visit to the zoo was finally over, Rebecca made a work-related excuse to call off their dinner plans. Parker was reluctant to leave with Drew and Rebecca, and both Brennan and Booth gave the boy long goodbye hugs. Booth tried to get Rebecca to confirm that he would have Parker again in two weeks, but she gave little more than a vague nod at his words and encouraged her son to get in the car.

Booth was quiet as he drove them back home, and Brennan could tell he was troubled. She reached over to place a hand on his thigh and sighed a little when he immediately reached down to enclose her hand in his.

"I'm sorry about today, Bones. I really don't know what her deal was," he told her, watching the traffic in front of them with a tight jaw.

"I thought I might be imagining things, actually," she admitted.

"No, her behavior was ridiculous. Even Drew was uncomfortable. Looks like _that_ relationship won't be lasting long."

"Is she often like that?"

Booth shrugged a little, unsure how to respond. It had been a while since the last time Rebecca had been so inappropriate, and it made him nervous.

"Sometimes. Usually she's just rude and argumentative. She doesn't generally act like that unless she wants something, so I'm not sure what to make of it."

Brennan was silent as she considered his words. Perhaps Rebecca's behavior indicated that she did indeed intend to ask a favor of Booth, but Brennan wondered if the true motive wasn't a far simpler one. _Jealousy_. Whether it had been to make Brennan and Drew jealous of her connection to Booth, or else to make Booth jealous of her relationship with Drew, Rebecca had seemed determined to make everyone uncomfortable in any way she could.

"Hey," he said, squeezing her hand a little. "You know there's nothing to worry about with her, right? Or anyone else, for that matter?" He gave her a tender smile, and she returned it.

"Of course, Booth. I was just trying to understand her motive. I know that's your area, but it seemed like she was trying to make the rest of us jealous for one reason or another."

"You're on point there, Bones," he said approvingly. "She's always been insecure, but even knowing that, I was still surprised at her behavior." Brennan felt slightly satisfied that she had perceived the situation correctly for once. "Let's not talk about it anymore, okay?" he suggested.

"Agreed. Though I hope she didn't ruin your day with Parker," Brennan commented. "Next time we'll make sure you have some time just for the two of you." Booth smiled at her, impressed at her insight.

"It wasn't ruined, Bones," he reassured her. "Parker still had a great time, and even if his mother did put a damper on things, I was still with my two favorite people in the world."

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"Bones! Saddle up your squint squad, we've got a nasty one." Booth announced as he swiped his way onto the platform. She rolled her eyes a bit at the phrase but gave him a smile anyway.

"Exactly how 'nasty?'" she asked.

"Well, let's put it this way: Hodgins day is about to get ten times better."

"Why's that?" Hodgins spoke up from behind him. "Did the President finally admit-"

"You know what, Bug Boy, how about we just stick to the job, huh?" Booth interrupted. "We've got a body discovered in an overturned garbage truck."

Hodgins eyes glittered dreamily, and he skipped off to retrieve his kit from his office.

"Zack, can you pack up and return these remains to Bone Storage while we're gone, please? And make sure the platform is prepared for the new remains?"

"Of course, Dr. Brennan," he replied.

Brennan left the platform and headed for her office, Booth hot on her heels. He helped her out of her lab coat but stopped her when she reached for her jacket.

"You're gonna want the full suit for this one, Bones," he advised. "Cam says it's pretty nasty."

"Cam's already there?" she asked in concern, doubling the speed of her movements as she pulled on her jumpsuit and gum boots. Booth pulled the strap of her field kit onto his shoulder and gazed at her with an indulgent smile.

"Yeah. Don't worry, I'm sure she's guarding the remains from unscrupulous FBI forensic techs," he teased. She leveled a glare at him, which only made him chuckle, and attempted to take the kit from him. "I've got it. Let's go."

Brennan didn't waste time arguing and walked out of her office toward the main doors, shouting to Hodgins that they were leaving. The entomologist giggled excitedly and hurried to catch up.

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Booth fervently hoped that Brennan wouldn't have cause to be angry with Cam over anything done to the remains before their arrival. She and Cam were slowly adjusting to one another, or at least it seemed that way, but Booth knew that it wouldn't take much to set them back at square one. Brennan's ego was still smarting a little at being passed over for Cam's job.

Brennan had contacted Dr. Goodman to speak to him about his decision, and from what Booth could discern from Brennan's recounting of the conversation, she hadn't gotten a satisfactory answer. Goodman had pressed the point that Brennan was interested in science, first and foremost, and a large part of Cam's job was bureaucratic. He'd explained that he knew Brennan wouldn't have the patience for that and would have been unhappy in the position. Not to mention, he'd known that even if she'd gotten the job, she wouldn't have been willing to give up her work as Booth's partner, and the simple truth was that there was only so much one person could do.

To Brennan's surprise, Booth agreed with him and reminded her that she was already working as his partner, identifying ancient remains for the Jeffersonian, identifying the occasional set of remains for this government agency or that, teaching her graduate students, and filling the rest of the time with her career as an author. Booth went on to say that he didn't think she _really_ wanted the job anyway. After brief contemplation, Brennan agreed that he was probably right, but she still maintained that Goodman had gone about it in a rather cowardly way. Booth didn't disagree with her there.

As soon as they reached the crime scene and opened their doors, the smell overwhelmed them. Brennan and Hodgins barely reacted, but Booth felt his stomach flip in revulsion. He instinctively covered his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his suit jacket and followed the squints toward Cam.

"Oh man. Okay, how bad does garbage gotta stink to cover the smell of a dead body," he whined.

"I think the victim was a minor," Cam announced. Brennan ignored her until she'd looked for herself.

"Okay, well if you agree, this falls under FBI jurisdiction, Bones."

"It's a male. Yes, an adolescent," she confirmed, appreciating Booth's deference to her opinion.

Hodgins announced that the victim had been in the garbage for three weeks, and Brennan added that the bone damage was congruent with a fall. Booth watched her brow furrow as she spotted something in the victim's hand.

"What've you got?" he asked, impatient to put as much space between his nose and the crime scene as possible.

"It's organic," Hodgins answered, handing Brennan a pair of tweezers. She extracted it carefully and collected it as evidence.

"Whatever it is, he brought it with him from the crime scene," Brennan added.

Cam asked Hodgins how much of the garbage he would need to take back to the lab, and her eyes widened at his answer: everything.

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While Brennan, Zack, and Cam got started with the analysis on the platform, Hodgins began sifting through the massive amount of refuse from the crime scene. Booth was relieved that the trash wasn't heaped in the middle of the lab but was instead being analyzed somewhere else. He stepped up onto the platform as the squints were discussing the state of the remains.

"He was wrapped in a shroud?" Zack asked curiously.

"Angela's analyzing the stains on the cloth while Hodgins figures out what they're made of," Brennan explained.

"No finger pads left for prints. How are we on dentals?" Cam asked. Zack replied that the FBI was handling it. "Multiple shards of glass embedded in the remaining tissue. Massive contusions congruent with a swan dive onto a hard surface."

Brennan pointed out evidence of a non-fatal strike to the clavicle and scapula, and when the group fell silent for a moment, Booth took the opportunity to inform them that the garbage handler he'd spoken with worked for a private company and wasn't particularly strict about his route. The man hadn't been able to say for sure where he might've picked up the victim. The squints nodded and focused again on the remains.

"No visible tats or track marks," Cam remarked.

"You sound surprised," Brennan said, a little confused.

"Well, it was most likely a junkie or a hustler, Bones." Booth regretted speaking up almost immediately as he saw Brennan stiffen a little in response.

"Why make the assumption?"

"Not many kids from the suburbs end up rotting in garbage trucks. Fun fact from the front lines," Cam explained. The group was saved from an admonishment about jumping to conclusions by the appearance of Angela.

"Hey, guys. Wanna see something cool?" she asked eagerly. The artist had a sort of gleam in her eyes that reminded Booth forcibly of Hodgins' reaction to the garbage dump. He and the squints followed Angela into the Bone Room where she'd been analyzing the shroud that had been wrapped around their victim.

"On the fabric covering John Doe's skull, there are tissue stains around the eye sockets, the nose, and the mouth. This is essentially a photo negative of his features," Angela explained. She pulled up a digital scan of the shroud on the large monitor next to her.

"Are you saying you have enough to assemble a face?" Cam asked, impressed. Angela used her computer program to project the details as she replied.

"Selective laser centering allowed me to map unimprinted areas. Skin tone and hair color were extrapolated based on Dr. Saroyan's data."

They watched as the face of their victim shifted into being on the screen. He looked like a clean-cut, reasonably attractive young man.

"I could be wrong; I'm no expert, but he sure doesn't look like a street kid," Brennan commented tersely. Cam pursed her lips but didn't reply, and Booth gave Brennan a flicker of a smile.

Zack went back to the platform while the rest of them filed out of the Bone Room and headed toward Angela's office. Booth's hand found its natural place at Brennan's back, hoping to soothe her at least a little bit. Angela took a seat in front of a large computer monitor, and the rest of them gathered behind her.

"I'm running our facial reconstruction through the Missing and Exploited Persons database," she announced.

"That's a lot of missing and exploited kids," Cam commented.

"These are just the locals," Brennan reminded her. Booth shook his head at the disturbingly large number of endangered children.

"Let's hope we don't have to go national," Booth replied.

"Narrow the search," Cam instructed the artist. "To street kids and kids in the foster system."

"Why?" Brennan demanded, bristling.

"Because, statistically, that's where this boy comes from."

"It's far too early to start narrowing our focus," Brennan argued.

"Runaways, street kids, foster system," Cam insisted. Brennan's mouth snapped shut and she tilted her head with a mocking expression.

"Dr. Saroyan's the boss," she told Angela, who shifted uncomfortably in her chair and input the requested parameters.

"I've autopsied a lot of kids," Cam continued. "Car accidents, drug overdoses, drownings: fine, that's a broad search. Kid in a dumpster: it's a runaway, street kid, or foster system kid."

Booth placed a hand on Brennan's back, trying again to comfort her without words.

"It's worth a try, Bones. If it doesn't work, then at least we'll know where _not_ to look," he encouraged her.

"Got it," Angela announced. "Dylan Crane, 17."

"This is why I was appointed to this job, Dr. Brennan," Cam said, looking vindicated. "To streamline the process."

"Honor student from a nice neighborhood," Angela added with a smirk.

"Oops," Brennan snarked. Angela continued to read the information aloud.

"He disappeared three weeks ago with his girlfriend, Kelly Morris, who _is_ in the foster system."

Brennan set her jaw and rolled her eyes. Cam was smiling again.

"Good. There we go. I guess your first move is to find Kelly Morris," she told Booth. But both partners were shaking their heads.

"No, the first move is to inform the Cranes that we just found their son," Booth contradicted her. Brennan followed him from the room, heading back to the platform to check on Zack's progress while Booth tracked down Dylan Crane's parents.

After they'd left, Angela considered warning Cam about Brennan and the foster system, but she felt that their new boss really needed to learn some perspective on her own. Brennan was a force of nature, and if things were going to work with Cam running the show, she had to learn that Brennan wasn't a typical employee.

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The Cranes insisted on speaking to Booth and Brennan at the lab, and although Booth was reluctant to agree, Brennan assured him that the bones would be in the cleaning process at that point, rather than displayed on the platform. The victim's parents would never see anything they shouldn't.

"I was able to identify Dylan beyond the shadow of a doubt," Brennan told them gently, showing them a picture of Angela's reconstruction. "I'm sorry."

"That's Dylan," the boy's mother confirmed. Both Mr. and Mrs. Crane appeared to be more angry than upset, and Booth knew they needed to tread carefully.

"How did he die?" Mr. Crane asked.

"He fell… from a height of approximately fifty feet."

"Suicide?" Mrs. Crane whispered in disbelief.

"Is there any reason to believe that your son was despondent?" Booth asked the couple. They boy's father denied it promptly.

"Dylan? No. He was a smart, happy kid."

"Problems at school? You know, uh… spending too much time on the internet? Anything like that?"

"His whole life centered around this girl he was seeing," he said, tapping a photograph they had brought with them of their son and his girlfriend.

"Was this Kelly Morris?" Booth inquired.

"Yes. I suppose you read the missing persons report," Mrs. Crane replied.

"So, you know Kelly's in a _foster_ _situation_?" her husband pressed. Brennan flinched slightly at the condemnation in the man's tone.

"Have you seen her since Dylan disappeared?" she asked evenly.

"No."

"To be honest, we were hoping they ran away together," Mrs. Crane explained. Booth narrowed his eyes at that.

"Why would they do that?"

"We told Dylan to stop seeing her," Mr. Crane clarified. Brennan anticipated the answer to her next question but asked it anyway.

"Why?"

"Dylan met her at Harbor Plaza where the street kids hang out," Mrs. Crane sighed.

"Dylan was getting ready to go to MIT. She's already dropped out of high school. The life we provided him didn't prepare him for a girl like Kelly," her husband added.

"You mean a _foster child_."

"Bones," her partner said softly. Booth wasn't any more impressed by the couple's bias than she was, but these people had just lost their son.

"Whatever happened to my son, it happened because of Kelly," the other woman insisted bitterly.

"We're gonna find her, and we're gonna talk to her," Booth assured her. Dylan's father spoke up then, his eyes on Brennan.

"Dr. Brennan, I can see that you think we're being hard on Kelly. But my son… my son was a _good kid_ with his whole life ahead of him." Mr. Crane became more emotional toward the end of his speech, and Brennan lowered her eyes to the table. She could feel Booth's leg move closer to hers beneath the table, a physical reminder that he was right next to her, as always.

Booth assured Dylan's parents that they would be in touch, and the Cranes left the lab looking grim. When they had disappeared down the stairs, Booth turned to Brennan and pulled her gently into his arms. He held her for a few moments, swaying gently, and she allowed herself to relax into the familiar comfort of his broad chest.

"Kelly Morris's foster mother is meeting us at my office shortly," he said quietly. Brennan nodded and pulled back, intending to head down to her office to retrieve her bag. "Hey," he stopped her, grasping her hand to pull her back. Booth dropped a soft kiss to her lips and squeezed her hand before letting go, pleased that she didn't push him away to retreat behind her walls.

Booth knew that this case would be difficult for her, and he worried about the progress she'd made in coping with her kidnapping. Although she hadn't been able to consciously remember much about her hallucinations at first, her visions had resurfaced in her nightmares, and Booth had even heard the occasional name leave her lips when she talked in her sleep. He'd been able to resist the urge to look one or two of them up, and over the last month or so, her dreams had mostly returned to normal.

He thought back to the last case they'd had involving the foster system and the little boy she had encouraged to open up to her about the crime he'd witnessed. It had been before they'd shared anything more than a very passionate kiss, before he'd learned the harsh reality of her teenage years, before he'd heard the stories that had made him nearly blind with rage on her behalf. _Before she'd been kidnapped and drugged into reliving some of those horrific events._ Booth sighed and tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach that always accompanied thoughts of Brennan's past.

 _Yeah, this case will be a rough one_ , he thought. He just hoped Brennan would continue to accept his help.

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 **Yes, I want to bitchslap Rebecca too. I think we all did during these episodes. Review if you've got time, and I'll be back with more on Tuesday. :) -Christi**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for all of the great feedback on this story so far! It truly makes me want to keep plugging away at my story. I've been feeling poorly the last couple of days, and your reviews have kept me determined to keep writing. So thank you.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 6

Brennan gazed out the window of the SUV as Booth made the short drive to the Hoover. Her mind seemed temporarily incapable of thinking about anything other than the Cranes' opinion of their son's girlfriend. It never seemed to matter how much Brennan tried to blot out the memories of her time in the system; they never left her. At times, those memories were clearer than the happier ones from her childhood before her parents left, and that irritated her. Why couldn't she be hazy on the painful details and have clarity with the happy ones? It seemed unfair.

Booth glanced repeatedly at Brennan and kept seeing her vulnerable expression reflected back at him in her window. He knew the interview with the Cranes had upset her, and he found himself wishing he'd done it without her whether it had taken place in her lab or not. He tried to make conversation so that she wouldn't recede behind her walls.

"Kelly Morris's foster mother says Kelly took off a couple weeks ago with most of her belongings," he told her cautiously.

"Okay," she sighed, continuing to stare out the window, not looking at him.

"You okay, Bones?"

"Did people always assume the worst of _me_ back then?" The question was rhetorical of course; Booth couldn't possible know the answer one way or another.

"You know… I know you hate psychology, but those people… they just lost their son. They need to blame someone. Try not to take it personally, okay?"

"I understand that what you're describing is the typical psychological response to the loss of a loved one. It's human nature," she replied softly. He reached over to take her hand and was encouraged that she entwined her fingers through his. She looked at him then, and the defeat in her eyes made his heart clench. The rush of concern must've shown in his face, because her next words were, "I'm okay, Booth. Don't worry. I can compartmentalize."

 _That's what I'm afraid of_ , Booth thought with a sigh.

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Booth regarded Suzanne Staunton speculatively as she sat on the other side of his desk talking about her foster daughter. The woman had brought a box of the girl's possessions and photographs, and she seemed to be genuinely worried that her foster daughter was missing. The news that the girl's boyfriend had turned up dead had taken her by surprise and deepened her concern for Kelly. She explained that Kelly and her brother Alex were both under her care.

"Poor Dylan," she lamented. "He was a good kid. He was a good influence on Kelly, trying to get her back into school. And he was good to Alex. Treated him just like a little brother…"

"To the best of your knowledge, were Kelly and Dylan sexually active?" Brennan asked. Booth was unsure why his partner had chosen that particular question but listened with interest to the woman's answer.

"Oh, I know they were. I'm afraid I caught them in Kelly's bedroom, and I had to forbid Kelly to bring Dylan into the house after that."

"Why?" Booth asked in confusion. _Banned from the bedroom, sure, but the whole house? Teenagers had sex all the time_ , he thought. But it was Brennan who answered his question.

"It's the rules. They're underage and Kelly's a ward of the state."

"And I knew that it might force Dylan and Kelly to find other places to be together. You know, feed into their own Romeo and Juliet fantasy. But Alex lives in the house too, and he's only twelve."

Booth digested the information thoughtfully before moving on, wondering what other 'rules' he didn't know about.

"Kelly and her brother, are they close?"

"Very close. Their parents were killed in a hotel fire four years ago. They had no family and were put into the foster system. I've had them for a little over a year," Suzanne replied. Brennan's face registered surprise.

"That's a pretty good run for a foster kid. Especially a brother and a sister who want to be together." She recalled briefly that she never lasted longer than five months in any of her foster homes.

"Yes," Suzanne agreed, looking a little uncomfortable.

"What?" Booth asked curiously.

"Well, I'm not certain how much longer I can keep both of them. I have diabetes, and I don't have the energy that I used to. And Kelly is a real handful… I've asked Child Services to look for alternatives," she answered regretfully.

"Did Kelly know?" Brennan asked.

"Yes, I told her."

A blonde-haired boy appeared in the doorway of Booth's office, wearing clothes that looked a few sizes too big for his small frame. Brennan recognized the image immediately. Sometimes, no matter how nice the family was, being a foster child left one looking thoroughly second-hand in just about every imaginable way. Everything was handed down, including oneself.

"Did they find Kelly or not?" the boy asked nervously.

"No, Alex. But they found Dylan," his foster mother replied morosely.

"Is he alright?"

"I'm...I'm afraid not," Booth answered him gently.

Suzanne crossed the room to hug Alex and told him that Dylan was dead. Brennan asked the boy if he knew where his sister was, but he shook his head in the negative. He claimed that she hadn't called him and asked if she could be dead as well. The boy's eyes clouded with tears and the sight gave Booth a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"No," Booth replied solemnly. "I'm gonna find your sister, and I'm gonna bring her back here to you."

"Really?" Alex asked hopefully.

"Absolutely. This is the FBI, buddy."

Brennan watched Alex smile, looking reassured, and she recognized the gentle, paternal tone Booth usually used with Parker. After Suzanne and Alex left, the partners returned to the lab. Brennan replayed the interview in her mind, not speaking until they'd reached her office.

"Were you lying to that boy?" she asked him. "Do you really think Kelly Morris is alive?"

"Ah, I don't know…" Booth answered sadly.

"You don't know if she's alive?"

"I don't know if I was lying. See, I just… I really don't have a read on the sister yet. I mean, was she a bad guy? Was she a victim?"

"Well, do you have a 'read' on Dylan Crane?"

"Oh yeah," Booth smirked a little. "He had that whole adolescent savior complex thing going _big time._ "

"Savior complex?" she replied with a quirk of her brow.

"Yeah, teenage boys love nothing more than the idea of saving the damsel in distress."

"How do you know?" She was smiling now, and Booth couldn't resist smiling back.

"Well, 'cause I was, you know… I was a teenage boy."

"With a savior complex," she added.

"Yeah," he confirmed, his eyes sparkling at her.

"Some things don't change." He didn't deny it but merely allowed his eyes to sweep over her lovingly.

Their gazes held for several long moments, conveying much more than spoken words ever could, and flirtatious smiles played around both their mouths. The sound of a throat clearing drew their attention to the open doorway. Cam wasn't sure what she was interrupting, but the atmosphere in the room was tense and intimate.

She informed the partners that the DNA from the tissue under the victim's fingernails had turned out to be female, and there was nail polish in the gouges on his arm. Brennan replied that it wasn't necessarily from the murder considering that the victim and his girlfriend were sexually active and could have scratched one another.

"Nope," Cam argued. "Hodgins also found oxidized iron in the scratches."

"Oxidized iron. What's that?" Booth asked. _Couldn't they ever just speak plainly?_

"Rust," both women answered in unison.

"Why didn't you just say _rust_?" Both women ignored him and Cam kept talking.

"The same oxidized iron found on the victim's upper back and shoulder."

"Probably left behind by the weapon that struck him," Brennan surmised.

"So, he was hit with what? A rusty pipe?" Booth asked. Brennan threw him a look that reminded him how much she disliked conjecture. Cam didn't seem to share her sentiment.

"That's a reasonable assumption."

"Oh, so Dylan tells the girlfriend they're breaking up-"

"She whacks him across the carotid with a pipe-"

"And pushes him out the window."

"Exactly," Cam agreed. Booth glanced back at Brennan only to find her gazing back at both of them, looking annoyed and incredulous.

"It's just a theory, Bones," he placated.

"There was cheap nail polish in the box of Kelly's belongings. You should see if there's a match," Brennan said placidly.

"Find some hair," Cam instructed instead. "Match the DNA on that, then get started on the, uh, murder weapon."

Brennan huffed and rose from her chair, passing both of them quickly and crossing to the door. Her shoulders were set with determination, and her jaw was clenched.

"Where are you going?" Booth asked, concerned at her irritation. Brennan rounded on them with a sarcastic expression.

"I thought that before we arrest Kelly Morris for _murder_ , based solely on the fact that she's a _foster kid_ , we might want to find the place where Dylan Crane actually died. Point of fact, the pipe-if that's even what it was-was not the murder weapon. The evidence, _if anyone cares_ , shows that Dylan Crane died from a fall."

Brennan whipped back around and walked quickly toward the platform, leaving a bewildered Cam and a chagrined Booth in her wake.

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Booth had decided to go back to his office to give Brennan a little space. He would try to talk to her about things later when they had some privacy. Brennan spent some time on the platform with Zack, analyzing the bones, and they determined that the victim had most likely been rendered unconscious before he'd fallen through a window.

Brennan had to chastise Zack not to jump to conclusions about the rusty object being a pipe, and although he looked appropriately abashed, he recited the forensic evidence which actually did suggest a cylindrical object that had left traces of iron oxide. Brennan encouraged him to give her _that_ kind of information rather than guesswork.

Hodgins interrupted to report on the organic evidence they'd found clutched in Dylan's hand. It had been a particular type of rosebud widely thought to be the rose to which Shakespeare had referred in Romeo and Juliet. Hodgins also happily informed her that much of the garbage he'd been sifting through had come from a Russian restaurant, and he suggested that Booth check the garbage route for one. Brennan thanked him and left the platform to inform Booth.

When she reached her office, she picked up the phone to call him but put the receiver down just as quickly. He would want to talk about how upset she'd been earlier, and she didn't want to discuss it at work. She pulled her cell from her pocket to text him instead.

 _:Hodgins says the victim was most likely picked up near a Russian restaurant. Check the garbage route._

Booth replied less than a minute later.

 _:Ok, thanks. Think you'll be ready to go home by 6?_

Brennan sighed. _Not really_ , she thought, but she texted her approval of the time anyway. His response buzzed back quickly.

 _:Great. Love you._

 _:Love you too._

Brennan slipped her phone back into the pocket of her lab coat and returned to the platform, hoping to find some more answers before he arrived to take her home.

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Booth cooked for them that night, making one of her favorite meals in hopes of cheering her up a little. Brennan set the table and pulled two beers out of the refrigerator before sitting down to their meal. She still looked a little tense, and Booth plucked up the courage to say what had been on his mind all afternoon.

"Bones… I'm sorry if it seemed like I was taking Cam's side earlier. I'm not assuming that Kelly's guilty. I just like to run all of the options through my mind, you know that. And this is _one_ of those options. But just because Cam quotes some statistics at me doesn't mean I'm going to trust her judgment over yours."

Brennan sighed and nodded, feeling a little guilty that she had misread the situation.

"I understand. I'm sorry too, I… misread things I guess. This case is difficult even without Cam jumping to conclusions based on bias."

Booth gazed at her empathetically. He wanted to try to explain that Cam was thinking like a cop first and a scientist second, but he knew doing so would only make it sound like he was defending her. He also knew that Brennan would staunchly disagree with Cam's priorities.

"I just hate that Cam seems so determined to believe that Kelly is a murderer. Just like she refused to consider another suspect for Carlie Richardson's death right up until the evidence proved that Kyle hadn't done it. Except now, it's like she's automatically going after Kelly just because she's in the system…"

Booth nodded, saying nothing to contradict her. Now wasn't the time to argue semantics. She took his silence for acceptance and continued. "I know what it's like for everyone to believe you're a bad kid, to believe you're a liar, just because you don't have parents like everyone else. When bad things happened to me, no one believed me because I was in the system…

"It's why I was abused or neglected in five different foster homes, and only two of the parents were ever held accountable. Two other families were verbally and emotionally abusive, and I didn't even bother to report them because I knew no one would believe me anyway."

Booth cringed at her desolate expression and took her hand in his. He wanted nothing more than to make her pain go away. To go change the past so that she'd never been hurt that way.

"I hate to think of you in those situations," he admitted. "It almost hurts me physically just to imagine it." She gave him a sad but appreciative little smile and stared at their joined hands. "Now, if you feel like telling me their names…" he suggested coyly, only half kidding.

Brennan laughed and smiled for real then. It wasn't the first time he'd asked, but her answer hadn't changed. She would never let her past be the reason his list got longer.

"No. I'm not that damsel in distress you like to picture yourself saving, Booth." But even as she said the words, she remembered him finding her in that basement, bound and beaten. Booth saw the memory flash in her eyes and freed his hand to tilt her chin upward, forcing her to look at him.

"You're strong, Bones. I know that. _That's_ what makes you who you are. Not your past or whatever anyone might have said or thought about you back then. Your strength is one of the things I love most about you, baby."

Brennan's eyes glistened at his sincerity, and pursed her lips in a tremulous smile.

"I love you too, Booth."

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Their search for the Russian restaurant took them to a very rough neighborhood, and Booth encouraged Brennan to walk slightly in front of him, his eyes sweeping cautiously in all directions. His hand never left her back. They spoke briefly to a handful of street kids who didn't give them any useful information, and as they continued down the sidewalk, Booth spotted a middle-aged woman standing to the side of an old van. The door was open, and she appeared to be slipping drugs to teenagers who had formed a line on the pavement.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me, huh? I mean geez, they could at least wait until my back is turned, right?"

"What?" Brennan asked in confusion. She hadn't seen anything, but Booth was drawing his gun.

"FBI. Hands in the air."

The few kids who'd been waiting near the van sprinted off in the opposite direction, and the woman put her hands up in the universal gesture of surrender. A man climbed out from the back of the van with his hands up as well.

"There's no problem here! No problem at all!" He looked back toward the teenagers who were still running and tried to stop them, but no one slowed their pace.

Booth held his gun on the couple until Brennan had taken a look at what they were 'dealing' and found it to be food and personal care products rather than drugs. As he holstered his gun, the woman admonished him that he had just ruined any trust they'd been able to build with the street kids.

After Booth apologized for the misunderstanding, Brennan flashed a photograph of Dylan and Kelly. The couple, Fran and Kevin Duncan, recognized the teens immediately and were surprised to hear of Dylan's death. They led the partners to an abandoned warehouse that was known to house squatters and junkies. Kevin told them it had once been a plumbing supply company.

Brennan threw Booth a meaningful look and reminded him of the rusty pipe that had been used to assault their victim. On the sidewalk outside of the warehouse, the other street kids had put up a sort of memorial to Dylan, complete with pictures, flowers, letters, and a copy of Romeo and Juliet.

The partners agreed that the techs should do a sweep for evidence, and a half-second later, they heard the sound of glass shattering. As they looked in the direction of the sound, a teenage boy ran past them at top speed. Booth shouted at him to stop and told Brennan that the kid was wearing Dylan's school jacket.

Both partners took off after the boy, but Brennan had been standing closer to begin with, and she had the lead. _Damn, she's fast_ , Booth thought as he watched her close in on the teen. She pushed him lightly, causing him to stumble and fall to the pavement, and Booth was relieved that the kid didn't seem to have a weapon on him. Booth was at her side a moment later, hauling the boy up from the sidewalk and escorting him into the warehouse.

"You can't ask me nothing without a social worker," the boy sneered. "I know my rights."

"I'm not questioning you," Booth denied. "We're just...we're talking, okay? Here, want some gum?" He extended his arm toward the boy, examining his face curiously. The kid was in need of a haircut, a shower, and a good-sized meal. His expression was wary and overly aggressive, as though he was expecting the call to fight or flee at any moment.

"Yeah. Like that's gonna make me trust you." The kid hesitated but took a piece of gum anyway.

"You know, I'm just asking your name," Booth said evenly.

"C."

"Does that stand for anything?" Brennan asked.

"Carter. I'm not saying if that's my first or my last name," he replied stubbornly.

"Why'd you run?" Booth inquired.

"Because this lady was chasing me!"

"Because you ran," Brennan reasoned.

"Yeah, it's a brain twister," Carter said sarcastically.

"You know that sweatshirt you're wearing belongs to a kid by the name of Dylan Crane," Booth told him.

"Never heard of him," Carter lied.

"Where did you get it?" Brennan pressed. Rather than answer the question, the boy took off the sweatshirt and handed it to her. Beneath the garment, he'd been wearing a black wifebeater with a pair of sunglasses hooked onto the neckline.

"I'm done with the hoodie. You guys can have it."

As his forearms were revealed, so was a short list of names written in blank ink on his left arm. _Warren, Weiss, Harvey, Monro._

"What's with the, uh… names on the inside of your forearm there?" Booth asked. "What does that mean?"

"Guys I killed," Carter replied with a straight face. Brennan paused in the act of checking the sweatshirt for obvious evidence traces and corrected the lie.

"It's a list of foster homes. Ones that threw him out." Both her partner and the teen looked at her in surprise, and Carter couldn't resist the urge to set her straight.

"Sometimes getting thrown out is-"

"The best thing that can happen. I know," she assured him with a commiserating smile. The kid studied her, intrigued.

"You were in the system?"

She nodded, and a look of camaraderie passed between the two. It was then that she recognized the sunglasses on the boy's shirt and pointed out to Booth that they were the same ones Dylan had been wearing in the photograph. Booth plucked them from Carter's shirt, and the kid made no move to stop him. Instead, he asked if he was free to go.

"No. Child Services is on the way," Booth replied.

"I tell you something, you let me go?"

"Try me."

"You want to know what happened to Dylan and Kelly? Check out the sandwich pervs."

Booth nodded and thanked him. Carter stood and began to move toward the open door, but Brennan stopped him and stepped close enough to discreetly slip him a couple of twenties.

"It'll be getting cold soon. Get yourself a coat," she advised. Carter nodded and gave her a half smile before disappearing through the doorway.

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"Charlie's checking on the Duncans for us; I told him we'd head that way," Booth informed her once they were back in the SUV. The forensic team was still checking the warehouse for evidence, and hopefully once Brennan got back to the lab later, she and the squints would have something new to analyze.

"How much did you give that kid?" he asked curiously.

"Just a couple of twenties. I have more on me, but a street kid can't carry that kind of money on him without risking a mugging," Brennan replied simply. Booth had heard her suggest to Carter that he find himself a coat before the cold season began, and his heart swelled with affection at her generosity.

A short while later, Booth had the Duncans' file in his hands and gave Brennan the highlights as they walked into his office.

"Fran Duncan's clean. Great record in the community. But Kevin Duncan? The kid got it right. I mean, he's a perv. Inside three times on 'solicitation of a minor' charges."

"Boys or girls?"

"Girls. He's a traditionalist."

"So he went after Kelly…" Brennan sighed, presuming that was the reason Carter had referred to them.

"Yeah, and the white knight from the suburbs steps in, gets conked with a pipe and tossed out the window…"

"And Kelly goes into hiding," Brennan finished. The scenario seemed more plausible to her than the one Booth and Cam had been positing the day before.

"Unless he got to her too," Booth qualified. "So what do you want to do next?" Brennan raised her brows with a quizzical smirk.

"Hmm. That's up to Cam, isn't it?"

"No, Bones. I asked _you_. What do _you_ want to do?" he replied, mirroring her expression.

"I think… I think we shouldn't close off any avenue of investigation. We stay on all of the evidence and see where it leads us. Like we did before Cam."

"Okay." Their gazes held, and Brennan saw something shift in his eyes. They had become suddenly darker, troubled. It was the way he looked when he thought of her being threatened.

"What?"

"Did… Do you have a list like Carter?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of foster families that didn't work out? Yeah, we all did. I wrote mine on the bottom of a shoe. It was… longer than Carter's, obviously." She still remembered gazing at the sole of her second-hand tennis shoe each time she had to add another name. That list was burned into her mind, likely for the rest of her life.

 _Anderson, Carsen, Hammel, Campbell, Roberts, Lewis, Collins, Taylor, Edwards._

Booth watched her focus drift backward through time, and he felt compelled to pull her back to the present.

"It was good that you could level with him," he commended her. "Hopefully when we finally track down Kelly, it will work again." Brennan nodded, still looking a little distant as she reached into Booth's candy jar and retrieved two pieces, tossing one in his direction. He caught it easily before continuing. "You know, kids like that… they kind of carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, you know? Metaphorically speaking," he clarified before she could ask. "They can be hard on themselves, carry a lot of mistaken guilt, grow up with control issues…"

Brennan studied him with an amused, albeit slightly skeptical, expression. He wasn't fooling anyone. She circled around his desk to wrap her arms around his waist, looking up at him. Booth returned the embrace immediately.

"Are we still talking about Carter and Kelly? Or are you trying to tell me something?"

Booth gave a tiny smile of approval at her insight and nodded slightly.

"Both, I guess. Just… something to keep in consideration when we catch up with Kelly Morris."

"Okay…" Brennan wasn't entirely sure she understood his choice of metaphor, but the comments on guilt and control issues were clear enough.

She sighed and wondered what Kelly Morris was feeling guilty about.

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Booth dropped her back at the lab to get started on the evidence that was coming in from the warehouse, and when he returned to the Hoover, one of his agents had picked up Kevin Duncan for questioning. The man claimed that he had no direct contact with any of the kids; he only made the sandwiches and allowed his wife to interact with those they helped. Duncan claimed to feel true remorse for his actions and described his efforts to help homeless teens as a sort of penance.

Unfortunately for Duncan, the Bureau had done some digging and had come up with a handful of girls who had claimed Duncan had traded food for sexual favors. He insisted that the girls, as well as Kelly, had come on to _him_ , wanting money, and had been angry when he rejected them.

Progress at the lab was slow. Though Hodgins had positively identified the exact window through from which the victim had fallen, there were hundreds of pipes and different rust samples to process. Angela relayed the news about the window and Hodgins' continued search for the specific rusty pipe when she tracked down Brennan and Cam in the autopsy room.

"Hairbrush from Kelly's room provided her DNA. The nail polish from her room also matches the nail polish we found in the scratch marks on the victim's arm," Cam told them.

"It doesn't mean she pushed him out that window," Brennan insisted.

"If Hodgins finds the pipe, and it matches the rust found in the scratch marks, then we can tie Kelly to the weapon," Angela added, missing her friend's troubled expression.

Cam launched into a recollection of young love, which Brennan assumed was meant to encourage a bond with Angela, and to her dismay, it seemed to be working. Brennan couldn't identify with anything they were saying. She hadn't had a boyfriend as a teenager because it had been against the rules, and she'd been too awkward and determined to hide her home life anyway. She did recall having had a crush on someone before her parents had left, however, and she'd argued with her mother about the boy on the very day they'd disappeared. That conversation had haunted her for years, and when she had finally been intimate with someone, it had been an older man. Brennan listened to them reminisce for another moment before interrupting. They looked disappointed at the change of subject.

"I'd like Hodgins to identify the species of rose found in Dylan Crane's hand," she said, following the instinct to pay special attention to the anomalies in the case. Doing so had served her well in the past.

"What can that possibly tell us?" Cam asked dubiously.

"I won't know until he identifies it." Cam seemed to consider it for a fraction of a second before responding.

"I prefer he keeps looking for the pipe. It could have Kevin Duncan's DNA on it."

"Which will prove _only_ that Kevin Duncan struck Dylan, _not that he killed him_. I want Hodgins on that rose," Brennan insisted.

"It's my call. No." Cam's expression was mild, but her tone was firm. She and Brennan squared off in a brief staring contest before Brennan shook her head with a scoff.

" _I can't work like this."_

"Are you telling me telling me I should start looking for your replacement?" she asked, her tone still oddly pleasant. Angela had watched the exchange nervously, and she interrupted them, all traces of her former humor now gone from her face.

"Dr. Saroyan, I don't want to be overly dramatic or anything, but… if you lose Brennan, _you lose us all_." Cam's eyes shifted back and forth from Angela to Brennan.

"Really?"

"Really. And Booth too," Angela confirmed. The artist had a general liking for her new boss, but there was no way in hell she was letting Cam fire Brennan. Cam nodded and appeared to be biting the inside of her cheek before she answered.

"In the interest of this investigation, I'm going to defer to you, Dr. Brennan," she conceded, avoiding Brennan's gaze.

Both Angela and Brennan thanked her and moved to leave the room.

"But I will start the search for your replacement," she added almost happily, loudly enough for both women to hear. They paused at her words but continued out the door.

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Brennan secluded herself in her office and locked the door behind her, closing the blinds for good measure. She paced anxiously, fidgeting with her fingers and trying to consider her options. There had been a time when Camille Saroyan's thinly veiled threat might have made her laugh, a time when a situation like this might have prompted Brennan's resignation from her position simply to deprive Cam of the pleasure of firing her. But that time had long since passed. It had passed the moment Booth had made her realize the value of their partnership.

Even if she and Booth hadn't gotten involved romantically, Brennan didn't think she would be any less determined find a peaceable solution to this problem. She knew she had to figure this out, but unbidden into her mind came images of her office, as empty as the day she'd first set foot in it; of Zack, having to leave his position because he was _her_ grad student; of Booth, going into the field with some nameless, faceless scientist who wouldn't be skilled enough to have his back.

Brennan cringed away from that last image in particular and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She didn't want to interrupt Booth if he was doing something important, so she texted him instead.

 _:Are you busy?_

Her phone rang in her hand not ten seconds later, startling her almost comically.

"Hey," she answered timidly, foregoing her usual greeting at the sight of his name on the caller ID.

"What's wrong?" he asked, hearing an emotion in her voice he couldn't yet identify.

"Cam and I are…"

"Butting heads?"

"What? No, of course not," she said, sounding disturbed.

"I mean metaphorically, Bones. You're disagreeing? Arguing?"

"Oh," her expression cleared. "Yes. I really don't know how I can work like this."

Booth could hear the anxious tension in her voice, accompanied by something else that sounded not unlike defeat. He hated it. His phone beeped in his ear, signaling another call, and he glanced at the screen. _Cam_. _Of course_. He sent the call to voicemail after two rings.

"Look, Bones. I knew this was going to be rough when you first mentioned that she would be your boss. You've gotta hang in there, okay? We can talk more about this at home, but for right now, just try to take a breath and focus on the case. We'll figure this out."

Brennan closed her eyes and nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her, and she took the deep breath he recommended. Booth heard it and knew she had taken his words literally, and that made him smile. He also knew that this was more than a disagreement with Cam; Brennan's anxiety was compounded by their current case.

A short figure appeared in his peripheral, hovering in his office doorway, and Booth looked up in surprise to see Alex Morris.

"Hey, Bones, I need to go. I have one more short meeting, and then I'll head that way to pick you up, okay? Keep a level head. I'll be there soon."

"Okay. See you."

"Bye. Love you."

"I love you too."

Booth closed his phone and motioned Alex into the room, rising from his chair to meet the boy halfway. He invited him to have a seat in one of the guest chairs and leaned against the front of his desk.

"You want a coke or anything?" Booth offered.

"No. You a big shot?" he asked innocently. Booth grinned.

"Uh, yeah," he said, pointing to the nameplate on his desk. "Look at that, huh? Special Agent _in Charge_ , Seeley Booth." Alex laughed at his boasting. "So, how'd you get here?"

"Bus… Kelly called me. On the phone."

"What'd she say?"

"That she's okay. And that we'd be together. Soon."

"Did she say where she was?" Booth pressed. Alex shook his head no. "Did she know about Dylan? About him being dead?"

"Yeah. She couldn't stop crying about it. She had to hang up… I think she's lying. I think she's never coming back." Alex sobbed and abruptly stood up to hug Booth. Booth returned the hug automatically, and he patted the child's back soothingly.

"Hey, it's okay Alex, alright? Everything's gonna be okay."

"I think I'm all alone now," he cried.

Booth's heart contracted, and he couldn't help but draw the obvious parallel to Brennan. Had she been vulnerable like this when Russ had left her alone in the world? He inhaled deeply and summoned the words he wished he could've said to her all those years ago.

"No. Hey, look… You're never gonna be alone, okay? We know for certain that Kelly is alive, and I promise we're gonna find your sister. Okay?" Alex nodded, drying his tears. "Alright, let's get out of here. I'll give you a ride home."

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Booth had checked his voicemail on the way back to the lab after dropping Alex off at his foster home. Cam had left a message telling him to get to the lab as soon as possible, and she'd sounded irate. He had a fairly good idea what _that_ was about, and as he drove, he contemplated the best course of action.

"I got your call," he told her, stopping by her office on the way to Brennan's.

"It was urgent. Why didn't you answer?"

"I was busy. What's so important?"

Cam stepped aside to reveal the body of Kevin Duncan on the exam table behind her. Booth's expression grew even more disconcerted.

"Kevin Duncan," he announced unnecessarily.

"Single gunshot wound to the chest. You're just in time for the autopsy."

Zack was standing nearby as if to assist her, and he groaned aloud, looking revolted. Cam asked if he was feeling queasy, and he replied that he wasn't accustomed to remains looking so much like actual human beings. Booth silently agreed with him; he far preferred Brennan's skeletal remains to Cam's fleshy counterparts.

Cam quickly removed a rib with a bullet lodged inside it and handed it to Zack, dismissing him. Booth's eyes followed him enviously, wanting nothing more than to leave the room and check on his girlfriend, but Cam didn't seem to be finished talking.

"Booth… If Dr. Brennan were to quit-"

" _What?"_ Booth was alarmed, trying to remember if Brennan had said anything like that on the phone.

"If she were to leave the Jeffersonian…"

"Well, the squints would flee this institution like the French Army."

"And you?" She gave him a sidelong glance, wondering if Angela had been accurate in her assessment. "What if I fired her? What would you do?"

" _I'm with Bones, Cam._ All the way. Don't doubt it for a second. And that would be true even if we weren't in a relationship. I vouched for her long before that, and she's had my back every day since."

At that precise moment, Hodgins interrupted to give a quick report about the rose that had been clutched in Dylan's hand. It was a special breed that most likely came from the rose wing of the United States Botanical Garden. Booth thanked him and said they'd make a trip there the following morning to check it out. The entomologist sauntered out of the room, and Booth turned back to Cam.

She still appeared to be surprised by Booth's declaration. The Seeley Booth she'd known for so many years would never have considered quitting his job for _anyone_. And yet, that was effectually what he had just threatened to do. The change in him stunned her.

Booth weighed his next words carefully, hoping he wasn't overstepping a boundary.

"Look, Cam… Maybe you just got off on the wrong foot with this case with Bones because… she was a foster kid," he said hesitantly. Cam closed her eyes and sighed ruefully.

"Oh. Why didn't she tell me?"

"She doesn't do that. Look, I didn't tell you that, okay? You guys gotta work this out."

Cam nodded and didn't stop him when he left her office. She turned her attention back to her autopsy and resolved to talk Brennan around to an understanding once this case was closed.

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"Hey, Bones," Booth said gently, finding her at her desk. "It's getting late, and it looks like Hodgins and I are taking a field trip to the Botanical Garden tomorrow morning. You ready to go home?"

She gazed back at him with tired eyes and nodded, rising from her chair and crossing the room until she was close enough for him to fold her tenderly into his arms. Her arms went around him as well, and for a few moments, they merely stood, holding each other and swaying slightly. When she pulled back, she had a weary smile for him, and he returned it, leaning down to kiss her softly.

Brennan's arms moved of their own accord, pulling away from his waist and gliding over his shoulders instead, clinging to his broad frame as the kiss deepened. He tightened his hold on her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She gasped a little in surprise but welcomed the intrusion, feeling grateful that the blinds and door were closed.

The kiss continued until they were both breathless, and they broke apart, chests heaving and eyes dark with need.

"Let's go home," he suggested. As much as he wanted her _right now_ , he knew that it wasn't worth the risk of getting caught when things were already so tense between Brennan and Cam. "I'll cook tonight," he offered.

"No," she said softly, pressing kisses to his neck and loosening his tie a little. Booth looked at her in confusion. "I mean… Let's go home, yes. But let's pick up something on the way. I don't think I'll have the patience to wait for something to cook once we get home."

He grinned at her and nodded his acceptance of her plan, helping her gather her things and placing a hand to her back as they left the lab. Brennan was still upset about her earlier conversation with Cam, but at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be distracted by her ridiculously handsome partner.

They made their way to the SUV and climbed in to head home, their fingers intertwined the entire way.

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 **This chapter was getting too long, but never fear, the next one will get to the smut pretty quickly, and then I think there are steamy bits in the next two after that as well.**

 **Let me know your thoughts. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Happy Bonesday!** **I'm ridiculously excited about tonight's episode, it looks absolutely hilarious. I don't even mind waiting up for it tonight. Yay!**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 7

They picked up dinner from Sid's on the way home, and as they ate, Booth brought up their earlier phone conversation.

"Cam pulled me aside and talked to me for a few minutes when I got to the lab earlier. She was autopsying Kevin Duncan," Booth told her. "She asked what I would do if you quit or if she fired you." Brennan twisted her noodles around her fork and pursed her lips without looking at him. "Are you seriously considering leaving?"

"No… Though I can't stop her from firing me, if she's determined to do so."

Booth was relieved at her answer, belatedly realizing how much Cam's implications had truly worried him.

"I don't necessarily think that's true, Bones. I'm sure the top dogs at the Jeffersonian would have something to say about it. Whether she's your boss or not, you've got seniority, and you're the best in your field. Cam's good, but not as good as you are."

Brennan smiled genuinely at his unwavering support and leaned in to kiss him swiftly before taking another taking another bite of her dinner.

"While you may be right about that, who's to say that whomever might replace her wouldn't be just as bad?"

"Cam's not _bad_ , really, she just… she has a different perspective, a different way of doing things," Booth sighed. "I think you two need to sit down and sort out your differences one on one. I've been mediating for you during this case, but I can't always do that. You guys need to find a balance that works for both of you."

"I agree with that, Booth, but I just don't know how to work for someone who can make such blind assumptions in something as important as a murder investigation."

"I know. So… that's one of your concerns that you can address when you talk to her, okay? Figure out what else you want to bring up," he encouraged. Brennan nodded her approval of his suggestion and closed the lid on the container she'd been eating from.

"Right now… I'd like to stop talking about Cam. And work," she added, leveling a hungry gaze upon him. Booth grinned appreciatively back at her and leaned forward to kiss her again, but this time, it was much more than the fleeting peck on the lips she had given him.

Their lips moved in familiar patterns-nipping, sucking, tasting-until both were feeling almost intoxicated with the intimacy. Brennan rose from the couch and gave his hand a gentle tug until he followed, and when they reached the top of the stairs, he swept her up into his arms without warning. She gasped in surprise but recovered quickly, circling her arms around his neck and fastening her lips to the smooth skin covering his pulse.

Booth groaned in approval, and his feet moved quickly toward the bed. He set her gently down onto the mattress and made quick work of her clothing as well as his own. Brennan moaned at the delicious sensation of his bare skin against hers.

On some occasions, their lovemaking was punctuated by shouts of ecstasy and provocative words. At other times, it was so primal that the pleasure of it took them to a place that was completely _beyond_ words. And on still other occasions, it was sensual, slow, and passionate. The intimacy was so intense that neither could find the words to describe the connection they felt. Tonight was like that: intense, emotional, profound.

Booth's hands traveled the silky contours of her skin, drawing gasps and moans, and his lips followed closely behind. He captured the hardened peak of one breast in his mouth and continued to tease her for so long that she was nearing an orgasm simply from that stimulation alone. Her hips moved in an unconscious rhythm, and her center literally ached with desire for him.

" _Please…"_

It was little more than a whisper-the one word she could summon in her delirium. She was begging for release, begging him to take her, to fill her, to make her whole. Booth shuddered at the raw emotion he could hear in her voice, and he refused to let another second pass without being inside her.

Brennan cried out softly as their bodies were joined, and they began a slow, steady rhythm that took him incredibly deep within her. Their gazes locked, and it became impossible to look away. Each thrust of their hips, each gasp and sigh carried them closer to oblivion until they hovered on the precipice together.

Booth brushed his lips against hers, and the tenderness of the kiss was her undoing. She shattered in his arms, clinging desperately to him as wave after wave of intense pleasure rocked through her body. The spasming of her release triggered Booth's as well, and he erupted with a soft cry against her lips.

Their hips continued to move as the tremors slowed, and still their mouths moved in time with one another. When at last the sensual post-coital ache fell upon them, their movements ceased, and they continued to gaze at each other as their breathing slowed.

Though no words had been spoken until that point, save for Brennan's whispered plea, they now found their voices at precisely the same time.

"I love you," they declared in unison. Identical smiles lit their features, and they curled around one another, completely satisfied.

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The following morning found Booth and Hodgins at the Botanical Garden, which the entomologist had indicated was the most likely place to find the particular breed of rosebud Dylan had been holding. Although Booth hadn't been sure what to expect when they located the flowers, it certainly wasn't the sight of Kelly Morris, standing alone with bloodshot eyes. _Well done, Bones_ , he mused, knowing that she'd pushed for the identification of the rose. He enlisted Hodgins help in distracting Kelly for a few moments so that he could get close enough to speak to her before she made a run for it. Booth tried not to laugh when she called Hodgins a perv.

"Hello, Kelly. FBI, not a perv," Booth promised, showing his badge. She began to run, but Hodgins blocked her.

"It's okay, we're just here to help," Hodgins told her.

"Not gonna hurt you. Just gotta talk about what happened to Dylan."

"Dylan's dead," she replied nervously.

"Were you there when Dylan died?"

"Was I there? _Who do you think killed him?_ "

Booth watched for indications of deceit, but Kelly's blue eyes never wavered from his face.

"Look, we need to ask you some questions, Kelly. You gonna come willingly, or are you going to make me cuff you?"

Booth relaxed a little when the girl made no further attempt to run and walked to the SUV willingly. He stopped by the lab and quickly exchanged Hodgins for Brennan, waiting outside until his partner exited the building. She glanced back at Kelly curiously and saw that the girl was looking out of her window with the same lost expression that Booth said she herself often wore.

Once they were set up in the interrogation room with Kelly and her appointed attorney, Booth cut right to the chase.

"Why did you kill Dylan, Kelly?"

The attorney spoke up to argue the semantics of Kelly's exact words, but the girl set her straight immediately.

"I killed him. I did it. Because he broke a promise to me."

"The promise to stay with you?" Brennan asked. _Hadn't she once asked Booth for exactly the same thing?_ It wasn't difficult to understand Kelly's reasoning.

"He tossed me a couple hundred bucks and told me he was going to college. That we wouldn't see each other anymore," Kelly answered stiffly.

"What'd you do?" Booth asked her.

"I pushed him out a window." Her eyes were gleaming with unshed tears, but her voice remained calm. "It was kind of an accident, right? What do you call it? A crime of passion?"

"You pushed him out the window." Brennan's question was inflectionless, and she was recalling the scratches on Dylan's arms.

"Yes."

"And was he conscious at the time?" she asked, already knowing the truth.

"Yeah. He screamed, okay?" Kelly's tone was sarcastic, but the emotion behind her eyes was building.

"What then?" Booth pressed.

"I ran away," she said simply. Brennan had had enough of the game.

"No, Kelly. _You didn't_. You went down to the alley and you wrapped Dylan in linen. And then you put a rose from the Botanic Garden in his hand. The Romeo and Juliet rose." As Brennan spoke, Kelly's expression became gradually less controlled, and she shook her head repeatedly.

"You know, it's a strange thing to do right after you murder someone," Booth said gently. He was having no trouble remembering the evidence either. This girl was lying.

"Well, I'm pretty screwed up, didn't you hear?"

"Someone shot Kevin Duncan. He's dead," Brennan told her, watching her closely. She'd seen Booth change the subject on a suspect that way in order to throw them off, and this seemed to be the right kind of scenario for that tactic. Booth glanced at her in approval and waited for Kelly's answer.

"The sandwich guy?" She appeared confused.

"We're thinking the two deaths were connected," Booth added.

"Fine. Yeah I killed him too," Kelly said, flustered.

"She killed him too," Booth announced in mock surprise.

Kelly's lawyer spoke up then and convinced Booth to put the interrogation on hold for a little while. Kelly was taken to a holding cell, and Booth convinced Brennan to regroup over lunch.

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"She's lying," Brennan insisted, stabbing her vegetables with somewhat inappropriate force. "She got it wrong; she forgot about the pipe."

"I know, Bones. I'm just trying to think of a situation so bad that a girl would confess to a murder to try and get out of it. That's just…" Booth trailed off when he saw Brennan sit up a little straighter, and Fran Duncan appeared next to their table.

"Agent Booth. Dr. Brennan."

"Mrs. Duncan," Brennan greeted her. Booth offered a seat or a cup of coffee, but Fran declined. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Did Kelly Morris kill Dylan?"

"Well, she confessed…" Booth hedged.

"And now you think she killed my husband as well?"

"It's very possible," Brennan conceded. "I'd believe that before I'd believe she killed Dylan." Fran's jaw clenched briefly before she spoke again.

"Kelly shouldn't take the blame." She reached into her purse and removed a gun, placing it on the table. "You'll find one bullet missing."

"You're confessing to your husband's murder?" Booth asked in surprise.

"He _used me_ to get close to young girls. I don't know how many through the years." Her voice was heavy with disgust, and it was obvious that she'd had no knowledge of her husband's past misdeeds until he'd been brought in for questioning by the FBI. Booth sighed and stood up to cuff her.

" _Thank you,"_ Brennan whispered fervently as Booth was mirandizing her. Booth instructed Brennan to pick up the gun, and she reached into her messenger bag for an evidence bag and latex gloves.

They left Fran Duncan at the Hoover to be processed and made their way back to the lab. It didn't take long for Cam to complete a ballistics check on the weapon and confirm that it was the same gun that had killed Kevin Duncan. Brennan and Cam did some verbal sparring about the credibility of Kelly's confession, and Angela came up with an idea to help them figure out what really happened.

Booth joined the squints on the platform as they ran through possible scenarios that would explain all of the miscellaneous details. They determined that there had to have been a third person with Kelly and Dylan, and they assumed at first that it must have been Kevin Duncan. Booth played the role of Dylan, falling to the floor at the end of the gruesome skit. Brennan extended a hand to pull him up, and when he was on his feet, their hands remained joined for just a little longer than usual.

"Except why would Kelly confess to a murder to protect Kevin Duncan?" Brennan wondered aloud.

"She's afraid of him," Angela pointed out.

"But she knows he's dead."

"Guys," Booth said, inwardly cursing himself for not having seen the truth sooner. "There are only two people in this world that Kelly Morris would cover for. One of them went out that window."

"Alex," Brennan said softly. Her genius mind sprinted through the evidence, picturing the fractures the pipe had caused again and determining that the pipe was heavy enough to have caused that damage even if someone of small stature had been wielding it. She met Booth's eyes sadly and followed him from the platform in silence.

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Booth watched from the observation room as Brennan sat down across the table from Kelly. Alex and his foster mother were on their way, but he had only told them that Kelly had been located. Brennan had asked him to let her talk to Kelly, and something in her tone gave him the impression that it was something she _needed_ more than _wanted_ to do. Predictably, Kelly refused to budge from her confession, and Brennan paused to look toward the mirror. Though Booth knew she couldn't see him, her beautiful, glistening eyes seemed to pierce him anyway.

"Dylan made you feel like you weren't alone in this world, right? He was sweet to you? He took so much weight off your shoulders," Brennan said earnestly. Booth closed his eyes at the words she'd chosen, remembering the discussion they'd had in his office the previous day. "He was good to Alex. And when Dylan said that you'd be together, you believed him."

"Yes. Yes, I believed him," Kelly admitted mournfully.

"And when Suzanne couldn't take care of both you and Alex, you had an idea. Run away with Dylan. Maybe Suzanne will keep Alex, and everybody would be happy."

"Dylan loved me…"

"I know." Brennan's heart ached for the girl, remembering all too well the way it had felt to be a teenage girl, abandoned, craving love, and terrified to trust anything good.

"But I didn't tell Alex. He just…" Tears began to roll freely over her cheeks. "He just… he thought that Dylan was trying to take me away from him forever. I… I did it all wrong. It's not Alex's fault. It's _my_ fault." She sobbed brokenly, and Brennan reached across to hold her hand.

"Kelly. You're _fifteen years old_. This is _not_ your fault. The weight of the world is not on your shoulders. And we can't let you pay for what Alex did."

Booth swallowed thickly as he listened to her speech, torn between pity and pride. At fifteen, Kelly had been willing to face a murder charge for her brother. ... _And Russ hadn't even been willing to stick around_ _for his sister._ Though Brennan had made peace with Russ, Booth found it more difficult to forgive someone who had hurt his Bones so much. He shook himself slightly to refocus, but at that moment, he was interrupted by an agent informing him that Suzanne and Alex had arrived.

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Brennan hugged Kelly while Alex was led away, and by the time Kelly was on her way home with Suzanne, Brennan felt utterly drained and exhausted. She waited for Booth in his office, and when he entered the room, he closed the door behind him and closed the blinds. She was in his arms in seconds, burrowing her face against his broad chest as he moved his hands soothingly over her back. Neither of them spoke for several long moments, but Booth sensed that she was having difficulty finding the right words.

"I'm really proud of you, Bones. You helped Kelly and dealt with your own past at the same time. I've got more than a few agents who wouldn't have been able to do that."

"I… I know exactly how she felt."

"I know, baby."

"No, I mean… I _feel_ exactly how she felt. She believed him, trusted him entirely. And he didn't break his promise, but… he was taken from her."

Booth wasn't quite sure how to respond, though he felt he knew where this was going. He pulled back slightly and tilted her chin upward, allowing himself to get a little lost in the crystal blue depths of her eyes.

"I know that you'd never leave me willingly, Booth. But… I'm so afraid that you might not have a choice in the matter. We have dangerous jobs, and I almost lost you once already. When that bomb went off, I… I'd never been so afraid. For those few seconds until I found your pulse, I thought for sure that you were dead…"

"I wasn't, baby. I'm still here, and I always will be." She opened her mouth to argue, but he kissed her quickly to stop her. "I know what you mean. But I swear, Bones, I don't care what kind of circumstances are trying to take me away from you, I will fight like hell to stay. I'll never stop fighting." He rested his forehead against hers and swayed a little with her still in his arms. "You're not alone in that fear, Bones. I almost lost you _twice_. And I went much longer than a few seconds thinking you might be dead. I know exactly how terrifying it is to even consider."

"I love you, Booth. I won't stop fighting either," she promised. He kissed her with aching tenderness, and her heart contracted again at the thought of losing him.

"I love you too, baby. So much."

They continued to hold one another until Brennan's phone beeped from her inside her pocket. She sighed and removed her arms from around Booth's waist, retrieving the phone and narrowing her eyes at the text she'd just received.

"What is it?"

"Cam… She says we need to talk in private, and she wants to meet somewhere outside of the lab." Brennan chewed her lip nervously, wondering if she was about to be fired.

"I'm sure she just wants to talk," Booth reassured her. "Just like I suggested last night. Why don't you have her meet you at the diner, have some dinner while you're at it. I'm gonna be stuck here for a little while longer anyway to get things settled with Kelly and Alex."

Brennan looked like she might argue with his assessment, but instead, she replied to Cam and gave her directions to the diner. Booth helped her into her jacket and kissed her goodbye, hoping he'd been right about Cam's motives.

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Cam was already seated with a plate of food in front of her when Brennan stepped out of the cab and spotted her through the window. She was unable to read her boss's expression, and Brennan sucked in a calming breath as she entered the restaurant.

"You were right about the pipe," Brennan conceded.

"You were right about the rose," Cam nodded, keeping her expression neutral. She gestured toward the opposite chair, and Brennan sat down. "I wish you'd eat some of these fries; save me from myself," she offered. Brennan agreed that the diner's fries were very good but didn't take one.

"We have a problem," Brennan said simply. Cam nodded immediately.

"Uh huh. Do you see a solution?"

Brennan had been considering her options since the previous night when Cam had mentioned finding a replacement for her. She trusted Booth's judgment enough to believe that it might be possible to coexist with Cam, but she wasn't sure how to get to that point. It felt like this might be another situation that called for ' _offering up something of herself,'_ and she greatly hoped that she wasn't mistaken.

"It's… not completely my fault," she began, surprised at how hard it was to say those words. "I was a foster child, and apparently, Booth says that… Booth says that I have… something about control issues and _the weight of the world_."

"That sounds like Booth," Cam agreed with a wry smile.

"I think he meant that if I'm going to share responsibility for these cases, I'm going to have to learn to stop controlling everything too. Does that make sense? Psychology's not… I really hate psychology."

Cam listened to her with an amicable expression, and tried to find the words to explain the way she approached an investigation. She knew she had control issues of her own, but their differences were bigger than that.

"Not everyone's brain works as fast as yours," she pointed out gently. "I have to mull sometimes. Are you familiar with that concept?"

"Yes, I just always thought it was a waste of time," Brennan replied candidly. Cam chuckled and moved on to her next point.

"I'm in charge. But out of respect for you, I could extend… Did you ever play monopoly?"

"No," Brennan answered vaguely. To her credit, Cam didn't look at all surprised.

"Well, they have this thing called a 'Get out of Jail Free' card. Think of it as a free pass to defy me. No explanation needed, no recriminations, no repercussions." She smiled at Brennan's intrigued expression.

"Well… how many would I get?"

"One a week."

"Five per case," Brennan countered.

"Three per week."

Brennan considered it briefly and extended her hand to seal the deal. Cam shook it, feeling optimistic that they'd been able to reach an accord.

"Booth told you I was a foster kid, didn't he?" Brennan smiled knowingly. There had been far too little reaction on Cam's face when she'd heard Brennan's admission. A year ago, Brennan would have felt differently about it, but she realized that Booth had only been trying to help Cam understand her logic.

"Okay, yes. He did. _But_ he did it with a good heart, and I'd really appreciate it if you didn't let him know. Please."

Brennan's smile brightened even more, and warmth crept into her eyes as she thought about Booth. The way her face lit up was truly striking, and Cam realized that _this_ must be the Temperance Brennan her old friend had fallen for.

"Even if Booth and I were in the habit of keeping secrets, he'll know that you told me the second he sees me and sees us together."

"It's true," Cam chuckled indulgently. "He's awful like that."

"He reads people the way you read pathology reports, or I read bones."

The continued to chat about Booth, and Brennan even allowed herself a few of Cam's fries. By the time Booth entered the diner to take his girlfriend home, the two women seemed more at ease with one another than he could have hoped.

"Hey, ladies," he greeted them cautiously. As they'd predicted, he realized instantly that Brennan knew he'd shared a little bit of her history with Cam. To his relief, however, she didn't seem at all angry about it, and he felt himself relax even more. He grinned and leaned down to kiss Brennan before taking the seat next to her. He signaled the waitress to bring his usual, but that didn't stop him from swiping a few of Cam's fries as well.

"I take it you two got things worked out?"

"Yes," Brennan answered promptly, "I get three free escape from prison cards per week." Booth grinned affectionately at her, his dark eyes twinkling.

"I'm pretty sure you mean 'Get out of Jail Free' cards. And that's a great idea, Cam," he said, turning his attention to her.

"Thank you. I think it'll work out fairly well." She watched the couple interact and saw in greater definition what she'd only witnessed hints of in the lab. She'd been a little dubious at Booth's insistence that they maintained their professionalism in the workplace, especially since she'd walked in on them making out. However, as she observed the difference in their behavior outside of the lab now, it was clear that he'd been telling the truth. Not that she hadn't seen the awkwardly long, flirtatious eye contact and felt the sexual tension around them, but the connection between the two of them was even more obvious now. Cam smiled, unable to recall her friend ever looking so happy.

"I think I'll head home, guys," she told them pleasantly. "It's been a long day."

The couple agreed and bid her farewell, and when Cam reached the sidewalk and turned back to look at them, they were somehow even more absorbed in each other. She was happy for them. It was true that she might have wondered if perhaps there was a chance of resuming a physical relationship with Booth when she took the job. However, now that she'd seen how happy and in love he truly was, it didn't even occur to her to be disappointed. As perplexing as Dr. Brennan might be, anyone who could put a look like that on Seeley Booth's face was alright with her.

The couple shared a slow kiss as she watched them, and she turned away from the window with another smile.

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Although sometimes they could go a week or more without a case, their next one happened to land in their laps only two days later. They met a park ranger upon their arrival to the crime scene and trekked roughly a quarter mile through the woods before coming upon the site. The park ranger explained that despite the park's rules about leashes, a man's dog had found the remains and was most definitely not on a leash at the moment.

As the came into a clearing, they saw a collection of policeman, park rangers, and a civilian surrounding a dog who was standing on top of a large rock, growling at anyone who tried to approach. There was a nearly skeletonized forearm and hand clenched in his teeth. Brennan watched the owner attempt to calm the dog and convince him to 'drop the bone.' The park ranger told them that Animal Control was on its way, but it would likely be an hour or better before they arrived.

"Drop it now," the civilian ordered his dog. He turned to the partners and park ranger and said, "I'm so sorry. He...he's never done anything like this."

Brennan studied the man's features passively, noting the microphthalmia and unique bone structure. Booth watched the dog owner's unsuccessful attempts to calm his animal and sighed, figuring they could possibly be stuck there for quite a while.

"You ever have a dog, Bones?" he asked curiously. The thought had crossed his mind when they'd chosen a house with a fenced backyard, but he'd figured they really didn't have time for a pet.

"I would want a pig," Brennan replied to his surprise.

"A pig?" Booth echoed, trying not to sound incredulous. She rolled her eyes anyway.

"Very smart and, despite the popular misconception, very clean," she reasoned. Brennan didn't miss his pursed lips and knew he was either stifling a smile or a sarcastic comment. _Probably both_. "In some cultures, dogs can guard corpses, sometimes to the point of starvation, so… do something."

"Yeah, sure… Right. Dogs love me…" He approached the animal slowly, talking nonsense to it while his partner smirked behind his back. The dog snarled at Booth as he extended his hand, and Booth retreated quickly, muttering about Animal Control.

"I'll do it," Brennan announced calmly. She picked up a pinecone and whistled through her fingers. The sound surprised Booth, who hadn't been aware she could do that. He scoffed a little at the idea that a pinecone would work, but sure enough, when Brennan threw the thing in the opposite direction, the dog took off after it. Unfortunately, he still had his jaw around the arm when he went. The dog's owner chased after him, and Brennan announced that she would need that arm.

As Brennan performed her preliminary examination, she couldn't help but feel that something was odd about the remains. She wanted to stay at the scene longer, but she knew that a more thorough examination would be best done in the lab. Once Animal Control had retrieved the arm, a deputy interviewed the dog's owner briefly, and the remains were packed up and sent to the Jeffersonian.

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Brennan, Cam, and Zack began the initial analysis of the remains and were quickly joined by Hodgins. The victim was female and in her late teens. There was enough hair remaining to discern that she was a blonde, and cause of death appeared to be blunt force trauma to the back of the skull.

"She was buried facedown," Zack added. This amused Hodgins for some reason, and he shared an anecdote about his uncle's burial preference. Brennan gave him a look to convey her lack of amusement, and he sobered quickly.

"Pupal casings and insect remains suggest she was buried out there seven to ten years ago."

"Placement of wrists and ankles suggests she was bound," Brennan announced, feeling that same odd suspicion again. Hodgins followed her assessment with his own.

"Residue on the medial malleolus might tell us what restraints were used."

"Look at that," Brennan said, addressing Zack this time. He scrutinized the right lateral epicondyle and rotator cuff, noting the abnormal wear to each as well as repetitive motion damage to the lower lumbar vertebrae.

"What's that mean?" Cam asked. Brennan had the impression that she already knew the answer.

"Golf?" Zack verified, earning him an approving smile from his mentor.

Brennan glanced in the direction of the platform steps as Angela could be heard swiping her access card. The skirt her friend was wearing was quite a bit shorter than usual, and Brennan wasn't the only one to notice.

"Hi, Angela. You look great today." Hodgins had a dreamy sort of look on his face, and Brennan was slightly puzzled. Even more confusing was Angela's reaction.

"Thanks, Hodgie," she preened. "This is my 'boho-rocker-artist, mid-week, take-a-deep-breath-and-pout' look." Brennan gaped at her slightly, noting Angela's flirtatious smirk.

" _Hodgie?"_ Brennan repeated vaguely. Cam was also rather mystified at their interaction, but thankfully Booth chose that moment to join them. Angela pulled up the facial reconstruction on the monitor.

"That our victim?" he asked. Hodgins used the computer to show him the head wound in more detail, adding that there were flecks of black paint embedded in the wound.

"Shape suggests tire iron," Zack volunteered.

"Tire iron…" Brennan mumbled. Booth watched her face as her eyes slid out of focus, growing concerned at the anxiety in her features. _She's seen this before…_ he thought nervously. Cam watched as well, and although she couldn't read Brennan as well as Booth, it was clear that she was having an epiphany.

"Bones…" She met his gaze and held it intently.

" _Tire iron. Hands and feet bound. Buried...facedown."_

A chill ran through Booth's body as he caught up to her reasoning. _Fuck_.

"Epps," he said simply. The team was eerily silent as they processed the implications, each recalling the last time they'd worked with Epps' victims. Cam was the only one out of the loop.

"Hello?" she said, raising a hand to get their attention. "New team member in the room."

"Howard Epps, a serial killer on death row," Brennan explained.

"Killed at least three," Booth said grimly. Hodgins and Angela added that they'd found two of the victims the previous year and that the judge had stayed his execution to try him on the new charges.

"You saved his life. Ironic," Cam said flatly. Booth scowled, remembering all too well the way Epps had played them.

"The timeframe fits. This girl would have been killed about… six months before Epps went to prison," Brennan informed them. Booth instructed Angela to run the reconstruction through the database for an ID, and Cam asked why he wouldn't simply pay Epps a visit and ask him. Booth smirked, and Cam was surprised to see an expression that looked almost… gloating.

"Well, the last time Bones saw Epps, it...got violent." The partners looked at one another, smiling as though they were alone in the room.

"You'll be there to protect her," Cam reasoned, unsure what she was missing.

"She's not the one who needs protecting," he replied, grinning a little more. Brennan looked down at the table sheepishly. "Bones broke his wrist."

"He touched me with his creepy, serial killer hands," she pointed out in disgust. Cam's brows lifted in surprise. She'd done enough research on Brennan to know about her martial arts training, but turning them on a known serial killer took guts.

"Better not take Dr. Brennan," she advised.

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It took Booth less than ten seconds to recall just how much he despised Howard Epps. His hair was longer now, but his eyes still held the same maniacal gleam that made the hair on the back of Booth's neck stand at attention.

"Agent Booth," he greeted him pleasantly. "What took you so long? And where's Dr. Brennan?" Epps asked, peeking around Booth hopefully. Booth ignored the question and sat down across from Epps, tossing a photo of Angela's facial reconstruction onto the dark surface.

"Who's this?" he asked, chuckling when Epps tried to stand for a better look but was hindered by his restraints.

"How about removing these shackles?" Epps suggested.

"The name, Howie. _The name_."

Epps didn't answer but instead sat back in his chair, regarding Booth with bright interest.

"You know… those hack doctors at the prison infirmary did a miserable job setting my wrist. It aches all the time, and I don't have full range of motion," he complained softly, rubbing his wrist with the opposite hand. "And let me tell you, when you're stuck in a prison cell for twenty-three hours a day, there's really only _one thing_ you can do to pass the time. And I need my wrist."

"Well, I'm sure Dr. Brennan would be… happy to re-break it for you," Booth threatened lightly. _Not that she'll be getting anywhere near you enough to do it, pervert,_ he thought bitterly. Epps didn't answer, but something about his expression conveyed to Booth that Epps spent more time thinking about Brennan than he should. Booth felt his blood pressure elevate responsively.

"What's that?" Epps asked, jerking his chin toward the file full of crime scene photos Booth had carried into the room.

"What, these? These are crime scene photos… the ones you like," he drawled enticingly. "Tell you what. You tell me the girl's name, I'll let you take a look."

"Everything you need to win the game is right there in front of you."

"Game?" Booth scoffed with false humor. "You're bored, huh? You playing us?" he asked, leaning closer. Epps leaned in as well.

"When Dr. Brennan figures it out, come and see me again. But bring your _lady scientist_. Otherwise… I don't say a word."

 _Not a chance in hell, asshole._

"Next time you see either one of us, they'll be giving you a lethal injection," Booth replied menacingly. He stood and left the room with a backward glance, but he felt Epps' penetrating gaze follow him until he was out of sight.

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It was dark by the time Booth returned to the lab, and he found his partner and her graduate student diligently analyzing the remains on the platform. Booth swiped his ID and collapsed into one of the chairs near the exam table, not bothering to mask his troubled expression. He gave them a general summary of his conversation with Epps, and Brennan looked nervous as well.

"Classic game theory," Zack surmised. "Throwing down of the gauntlet."

"What?" Booth asked.

"Conflict of interest arises, followed by a series of moves in which divergent strategies can be discerned," he added.

"What did he say?" Booth asked his partner. He was really only good at understanding Brennan, and even that comprehension was spotty at times.

"Epps is playing us," she translated.

"Yes, that's exactly what _I_ said," Booth replied. Zack went on, looking at the remains rather than either of the living people right next to him.

"Zero sum, obviously. After a few moves, we'll know Epps' order of preference."

"What did he say?" Booth begged again.

"We'll find out what Epps wants," Brennan relayed.

"Look, I already _know_ what he wants." Booth addressed Zack, "I told you. He wants Bones sitting across the table from him." His tone clearly indicated that this wasn't an option.

"What did Epps talk about before he said all the information you needed was in front of you?" Zack inquired.

"Mom, Bones, blondes, his wrist being set badly after Bones broke it… And, um, he made the point that he...really needed his wrist." Booth gave Zack a pointed look, but the kid's expression remained blank. Brennan glanced up from the remains to look at Booth, and he gave her a half-smile of embarrassment. Incredibly, she seemed to understand his cryptic words immediately and smirked in response.

"Chronic masturbation," Zack concluded finally. "The game may be all about self-gratification."

"The phrase he used was 'right in front of us?'" Brennan clarified.

"Yes."

"The...blonde is right in front of us," Zack mused.

"And she has a wrist. Well, two in fact," Brennan replied, nodding. _Epps must've mentioned his wrist for a reason…_ Zack scrutinized one of the victim's wrists.

"This wrist looks completely normal."

"Here," she said after examining the other carefully. "The right hamate bone." She used tweezers to hold up the bone so that Zack could see.

"The whole coloration is off. It's slightly greasy compared to the surrounding bone."

"It's about… an eighth of an inch bigger than the same bone on the other side," Brennan added.

"This hamate bone does not belong with these remains," Zack concluded grimly.

"It belongs to a second body. There's another victim out there somewhere." Her gaze locked with Booth's and he saw the incredulity in her wide blue eyes.

"Round one… goes to Howard Epps," Zack declared.

"Why?" Booth asked.

"Because he gets what he wants," Brennan replied smoothly, keeping her eyes on Booth's face. "Me in the room with him."

Booth's jaw clenched in frustration, and his eyes were full of concern. This was precisely what he'd been afraid of. He drove them home a short while later, trying to come up with a way to talk her out of it.

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 **Okay, so you've probably noticed that I'm covering these cases pretty thoroughly. Hopefully there are enough BB moments in this chapter and the next couple to keep it from getting boring. With Epps in particular, the details are vital, so I shortened where I could, but a lot of it has to stay. BB's relationship will change the interactions with Epps a little bit too. I knew it would have to be covered like this, which is why I almost completely summarized his S1 episode in my last story. It wasn't even half a chapter. So please bear with me - after Epps' case is done, the focus will shift to completely AU BB stuff for several chapters. Take care and please review if you can! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, I try not to talk about current episodes in case any of you haven't seen them yet, and I won't spoil anything, but I have to say-last week's episode was the best I've seen since... I don't even know when! If you haven't seen it yet, don't put it off any longer. K, now I'm done.**

 **Thank you so very much to everyone who has been reviewing, following, favoriting, retweeting...all of it. I realized it's been a couple chapters since I've said that, so please know that your feedback is a major factor in my desire to continue writing. This series is a monster of an undertaking, and it's planned out to the very end now, but I do still need encouragement to stay focused some days. In that same spirit, I want to thank my lovely beta chosenname as well. She has chatted with me pretty much every day and always has excellent insights when I'm feeling uncertain about something.**

 **Enjoy and please review. :)**

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Chapter 8

"Eat, Bones. I know you skipped lunch," he admonished, handing her a plate of vegetable stir-fry. He'd been in a meeting over lunch and hadn't been able to get to the lab until much later.

"You know, just because you're not there to watch me eat doesn't mean I _don't_ eat," she replied sarcastically.

"Oh yeah? What'd you have?" he smirked knowingly. She merely rolled her eyes and took a bite of her food. "Yeah, that's what I thought." She gave him a chastising look that only made his smile stretch wider, and she resisted the urge to turn the conversation toward the case right away.

"Have you noticed anything odd about Angela and Hodgins lately?" she asked, hoping that her expert people-reader had noticed the same things she had.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… pet names, compliments, unnecessary touching…"

"You mean _flirting_?" he chuckled.

"Yes, I suppose that's what I mean. So you have noticed?"

"I've seen how Hodgins looks at her," he shrugged. "I didn't know it was a mutual thing though. That must be a new development."

"Hmm." Brennan resolved to bring it up with Angela the next time they were alone. It would be nice to be able to put her friend on the spot about her love life the way Angela had so frequently done to _her_. Her lips twitched at the thought.

"Speaking of pet names," Booth said, reclaiming her attention. "If you had a pet pig, what would you name him?" Brennan's brows lifted in surprise.

"Jasper," she replied, her expression suggesting the answer should have been obvious. He grinned affectionately at her and leaned in to kiss her softly.

"You know, I'm not sure a pet pig would fit into our lifestyle."

"I agree," she laughed, standing to take their dishes to the sink. She rinsed them clean of food and put them in the dishwasher while he watched her from across the room. When she stepped closer to him again, she found herself encircled by his strong arms.

"I don't like the idea of you in a room with Epps," he admitted in a serious tone. She nodded but remained silent as he continued. "There's got to be another way to figure this thing out, Bones. I don't want you anywhere near that psycho."

"It'll be okay, Booth," she soothed him. "I promise. I handled him before, and if need be, I can handle him again."

"That doesn't really make me feel any better, Bones," he scowled. Brennan sighed and began to pull him toward the stairs. He held her hand as they climbed them and entered their bedroom.

"Don't worry," said gently, removing his tie and shirt. "You'll be there with me. You'll keep me safe."

 _How can she still believe that after I've failed so many times? Too many,_ he lamented. His guilt rose up like a creature determined to consume him, and she must've seen it in his face as she continued to remove his clothes and then her own.

"I trust you, Booth."

"I've failed too many times, Bones. I don't want to take that risk with Epps."

"You've _never_ failed me," she corrected. They climbed into bed and immediately sought the comfort of each other's arms. His muscles were tense, and Brennan smoothed calming patterns over his bare skin, willing him to relax. "Besides, there will be armed guards all around, even if he does try something."

"It's more than that, Bones. Epps messes with people's heads. He's evil; you can see it when he looks at you, you know? I don't want you anywhere near him. The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach."

Brennan deliberated for a few moments, understanding exactly what he meant by seeing evil in the man's eyes. She didn't necessarily want to be in the same room with Epps either, but it couldn't be helped.

"I understand why you feel that way, and it's completely valid. But I don't see another way. To beat Epps at his game, we have to play it for a little while first."

"That's pretty metaphorical for you, Dr. Brennan," he teased lightly, a reluctant grin lighting his features. She was happy to see it, and she smiled back.

"Thank you," she said genuinely, unsure if he was being sarcastic but appreciating the fact that he noticed her progress all the same. Booth laughed and hugged her tighter against him, sighing with resignation.

"Alright," he relented. "But the second he crosses the line, we're out of there."

"Agreed."

"And I wouldn't be all that upset if you broke something else. You know… if you're faced with a choice." Brennan chuckled warmly in response.

"I'll keep that in mind." She kissed him slowly and tenderly, feeling the need to give him something more pleasant to think about before he slept. Her tongue mated with his, and Booth felt his body responding to the invitation.

"Mmmm," he moaned against her lips. His hands wandered lower until one cupped her buttocks and pulled her against his arousal. Brennan gasped slightly in surprise and draped a long leg over his hips, pushing her center into his. He groaned at the contact and flipped her onto her back quickly, moving a hand to her breast as he nibbled hungrily at her neck.

Her hand drifted purposefully downward between their bodies, and he hissed with pleasure as her fingers wrapped themselves around him, moving skillfully and sending his blood racing thunderously through his veins. His lips reached the sensitive place below her ear, and she whimpered a little when she felt him latch onto the delicate skin there.

She guided him to her, pleading wordlessly, and his hand moved from her breast to her core, testing her readiness with a tantalizing sweep of his fingertips. Brennan gripped his upper arm with her free hand, nearly hard enough to leave bruises, but Booth barely felt it.

His lips returned to hers as he entered her with a single thrust, making her back arch upward against his muscled chest and abdomen. Brennan shuddered in his arms as he began to move, increasing his pace slowly until he was slamming into her rapidly, drawing cries of pleasure from her lips.

Brennan wrapped her legs around his hips to pull him deeper into her, and Booth moaned gratefully into her mouth, appreciating the new angle.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered into her ear. His warm breath sent a tremor through her frame, and she clung to him for support as his pace became even more frantic. He slipped a hand between their bodies and pressed his fingertips against her clit, applying exactly the right amount of pressure to send her spiraling.

"Booth!" she cried. The sound of his name on her lips as she came pushed him over the edge as well, and he came hard with her, his hips still rocking into hers until the delicious spasms ceased. They held each other while their pulses slowed, and he dropped tender kisses over her eyelids, forehead, cheeks, the tip of her nose…

When at last he eased out of her and collapsed onto the bed, she snuggled herself against his side and pressed her lips to his bare chest.

"I love you, baby. You're incredible. So amazing…" She grinned at the way his breath still came out in gasps as he said the words.

"You're incredible too. It still sometimes amazes me just how _good_ we are together. It's like you know what I need even before _I_ do…"

Booth gave her a cocky smirk and kissed her lovingly. She chuckled at the realization that she had just unwittingly enhanced his already-inflated ego, but she didn't care. In this area, he was absolutely entitled to his confidence.

"Your refractory period is also quite excellent," she complimented him, allowing her fingertips to dance lightly across his stomach. "That means-"

"I know what it means, Bones," he laughed. "And that's because I can never get enough of you." He made his point by kissing her deeply and pulling her slightly on top of him. She grinned when he released her lips and moved his hands downward.

"The feeling is mutual."

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"Who's that?" Brennan asked, referring to a rather plain and mousy-haired woman sitting with Howard Epps on the other side of the tempered glass window.

"Caroline Epps."

"Howard's sister?"

"Uh, no," he said as they watched the woman lean across the table and kiss Epps on the lips. "Howard's _wife_."

"He didn't have a wife last year," she commented, looking a little sick at the couple's affection. Booth explained that they got married about four months ago, and Brennan continued to eye the woman with incredulity.

"Heads up, Bones," Booth warned as Caroline was escorted to the door. "It's our turn to visit the psychotic, murderous, maniac-"

"Bastard," she finished.

Booth greeted Caroline Epps cordially and introduced himself as well as Brennan. Booth spoke to her pleasantly, not disagreeing with the woman when she claimed that Epps had asked God for forgiveness. Brennan looked alarmed at the congenial tone of the conversation. She felt as though she might be in a parallel universe, or at least that's how she would have felt if she believed in such a thing.

"Why were you nice to her?" she whispered, a bit exasperated at her own lack of comprehension.

"Because we might need her," he whispered back as they entered the room. Epps looked utterly delighted to see Brennan, and Booth forced himself to keep his expression neutral.

"Ah, Dr. Brennan. You came," Epps greeted her. Brennan sat across from him and looked him dead in the eye.

"I got your message. We're analyzing the wrist bone right now."

Booth sat next to her and watched Epps carefully, hating the look of enraptured obsession on the man's face. Epps eyes never left Brennan, and Booth saw his face twitch slightly when he noticed the mark Booth had left on her neck the night before. She'd laughed that morning when she'd seen it in the mirror and admonished him for it. Now Booth was feeling rather happy to have done it, though it hadn't been his intention at the time.

 _That's right, you sick fuck. Remember_ that _when you think about her…_

"We just met your wife," Booth said, snapping his fingers in attempt to shift Epps' laser focus away from his partner. "She seems very nice."

"Caroline's a hairdresser," Epps replied scathingly before turning his sycophantic gaze back to Brennan. "I'm glad you came. I hope you come back after you analyze the bone. Caroline's the best I could do in here," he smiled. The way he looked at Brennan made her stomach turn.

"Yeah, not your usual type, Howie. I mean… not young, not blonde-"

"Not dead," Brennan concluded.

"Bones, could you please shut up?" Booth said, never taking his eyes from Epps' face.

"Excuse me?" she asked in surprise, turning her head toward him and unwittingly making the hickey on her neck even more noticeable. Epps mouth tightened at the sight of it.

"Is this why you duct-tape their mouths? Because _that_ , I understand," Booth told him conspiratorially. Epps remained silent for a brief moment, then sneered at Booth.

"That's the lamest attempt at bonding I've ever seen."

Booth didn't move or even blink at Epps, but Brennan averted her eyes downward, feeling sickened by the man's very presence. However, when Epps sniffed the air deeply, Brennan looked up to see his eyes closed.

"You smell that?"

"What? My stinky effort to bond?" Booth replied sardonically.

"Antiseptic. My mother smelled like that," he clarified in a soft voice. Brennan sat up a little straighter, knowing these words were important-because the room smelled _nothing_ like antiseptic. "Obsessed with germs. She washed her hands in ammonia. Mine too. My one regret… I didn't make her my first victim. Put her under a little stone cross years ago." His eyes were fixed on Brennan again, and she nodded back at him.

"Okay," she replied, her jaw set in determination.

"'Okay' what?" Booth asked.

"Okay," she repeated, rising from the table and heading for the door. Booth followed her quickly, his hand moving to the small of her back as they left the prison at a swift pace.

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He could practically hear the wheels in her genius head turning, but he remained silent on the drive back to the lab so that she could think without interruption. When they arrived at the lab, she went straight to the Bone Room, and he followed her, coming to stand at the head of the table while her eyes checked each bone slowly for more clues. Booth was beginning to worry that she might be irritated with him for his ruse and felt the need to clear the air.

"You're not mad at me, right? My telling you to shut up was a ploy."

"Now he thinks you're an idiot," she said, arching an elegant brow at him before returning her focus to the remains.

"Game theory, Bones, okay? For two players to gain advantage over the one, they must be distinct from each other," he recited. She looked up at him again in surprise.

"Where'd you get that?"

"From me," Zack announced from the doorway. "I suggested that you be the smart one."

"Which, you know, left me making that ploy that was supposed to be lame," he smirked, looking pleased with himself.

"Don't enjoy this," she chastised him with a serious expression. "The only reason I'm playing his game is to discover the identity of this young woman." Booth's smile faded gradually, and he nodded his understanding that this was no joking matter. He sheepishly recalled the moment of satisfaction he'd had when Epps had seen the mark on her neck and wondered if she'd noticed as well. Though Booth thought it might not be all that wise to goad him at this stage of the game, he couldn't help but feel a little pleased that they'd managed to throw him off just a little.

"Well, we've made no progress on that," Zack spoke up.

"Check the minor golf leagues. Given the amount of wear to her shoulder, elbow, and spine, she must have started golfing at a young age," Brennan advised. Zack nodded and left the room, only to be replaced by Hodgins.

"I found minute traces of gypsum and selenium on the mystery wrist bone," he said without preamble. "Also phenolphthalein, which is a kind of laxative." Booth asked if laxatives would show up in bones, but Brennan said it wouldn't, even after years of ingestion. Hodgins clarified that the laxative was on the surface of the bone but admitted he had no explanation for its presence.

"We've scoured every inch of her, x-rayed her, run her through an MRI. What clue are we missing?" Brennan asked, her eyes still distant as her brain ran full speed ahead in search of answers. Hodgins asked what Epps had talked about this time, and Brennan parroted back the information.

"He mentioned his mother was a germaphobe, scrubbing his hands with ammonia-" she paused, giving Hodgins a significant look. " _Ammonia."_

"Ammonia," he echoed excitedly. "Why didn't you say so?" He left the room, looking thrilled, and Booth felt even more confused. Brennan noted his expression and explained the conclusion they'd reached.

"Another experiment?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes, but a necessary one. Nothing dangerous," she assured him, knowing how he felt about Hodgins and his experiments. She smiled at him in amusement before returning her gaze to the bones.

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Hodgins and Zack managed to get Cam's permission to expose the unexplained hamate bone to ammoniac gas, and the chemical reaction revealed a tiny symbol inscribed on the surface of the bone. It was a cartographic symbol for a mine, and Hodgins immediately got to work on finding a mine in the area that contained the gypsum and selenium he'd found on the bone. It didn't take long to track down, and by the time Booth and Brennan had finished their lunch, Hodgins had texted them the location.

"In prison, Epps mentioned a stone cross. That's what we should be looking for inside," Brennan told Booth as he pulled the SUV to a stop outside of the mine. Agents as well as local police were milling around, waiting for instruction. As the partners climbed out of the vehicle, Brennan continued, "Okay, this is the only abandoned gypsum mine within Epps' known killing ground to also contain selenium."

"Six entrances, hundreds of shafts, and half of it's flooded," Booth said as he lifted the crime scene tape and led her beneath it with a hand to her lower back. "You just follow my lead and watch yourself in there, okay?" She rolled her eyes slightly but nodded. "Thank you." They entered the mine shaft and scanned the area diligently with their flashlights. A mixed handful of law enforcement personnel accompanied them.

"I don't think Epps would make it that hard for us," Brennan commented, squinting into the darkness.

"Yeah, well Epps said he wished he'd buried his mother under a stone cross. I bet that's a hint," Booth replied. He began to call out instructions to the surrounding helpers, but Brennan was only half-listening. Something had caught her eye, and she caught Booth's attention to show him as well.

"Can we get some light down this shaft please?" he requested. The flashlight beams illuminated a meticulously stacked pile of rocks that were arranged in the shape of a thick cross.

"It's the cross, Booth. Will you help me move these?" she asked, setting her kit to the side. She began to lift the large rocks away, and Booth hurried to help her. As they shifted them out of the way, the smell of organic decomposition hit them full force, and they slowly revealed another set of remains. Immediately Brennan knew that something wasn't right.

"Well, it's definitely human, but-"

"What?" Booth asked through clenched teeth, wishing they'd skipped lunch.

"Well, Cam can be more precise, but I don't think this is more than a week old." A significant look passed between them.

"Epps has been in prison for seven years… which means he has an accomplice killing people _on the outside_ ," Booth surmised grimly.

"I wonder how many _more_ there are…" The thought was unnerving, and Brennan got the forensic crew to work immediately on getting the remains back to the lab. Booth waited for her outside, craving the fresh air, but only after gaining her promise not to do any more poking around without him.

Booth was needed at the Hoover, so he dropped Brennan off at the lab to get started on the analysis, and she promised to call him as soon as they had something. After only a few hours, his phone was buzzing in his pocket.

Angela had used dental records to identify the victim as Sarah Koskoff, a sixteen year old girl who had gone missing from Bethesda. Brennan and Cam had teamed up on the autopsy and determined that Epps' accomplice had his own flair for the dramatic. He or she had hung the victim upside down for long enough to cause bone damage and had removed the hamate from the girl's wrist to swap it with that of the other victim.

"If all of the communications in and out of the prison are monitored, then how are they communicating?" Brennan asked, somewhat rhetorically. "It's got to be Caroline Epps, right?" Booth smiled approvingly at her conclusion.

"Most likely, yeah. Look, I'm gonna go talk to Sarah Koskoff's parents. Do you want me to pick you up?" She deliberated for only a moment before answering.

"Not this time; I think I'm more useful here at the moment. Let me know how it goes."

"Alright. Love you."

"I love you too."

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By the time Booth returned to the lab to take Brennan home, he'd not only spoken to Sarah Koskoff's parents but to Caroline Epps as well. Sarah's parents had informed him that she had worked as a hairdresser in Caroline's salon. Caroline claimed not to have seen Sarah in three weeks or so, at which time she had simply stopped showing up for work. She seemed stunned at the news that her former employee was now deceased, but her shock turned to discomfort when Booth implied that Sarah fit Epps' victim profile perfectly. When Booth threatened to get a warrant for a search of the premises, Caroline declared that no warrant would be necessary. She insisted Booth would find nothing suspicious, and her claim turned out to be true.

Perhaps the most disturbing thing Caroline Epps had said during their brief conversation was that she had petitioned the court to allow Howard to donate sperm so that they could have a child. The thought of another human being sharing any part of Epps' DNA was rather sickening.

Booth found Brennan in her office, sitting sideways on the couch with her legs stretched out in front of her. He smiled affectionately as he came through the door and closed it quietly behind him. Brennan looked up when he entered and returned his smile. When Booth crossed the room and leaned down to kiss her, she had to resist the urge to pull him right down on top of her. He'd removed his leather jacket to reveal a crimson t-shirt that fit snugly over his muscled chest and arms, and his face was now shadowed by stubble.

Booth encouraged her to scoot across the couch so that he could sit behind her while she leaned back against him, and his arms encircled her instinctively. Brennan let her fingertips play over the forearm that was crossed over her chest and felt him kiss the top of her head softly.

"What's that?" he asked, referring to a necklace she was holding in her hand.

"Religious medal," she answered, handing it to him. "Sarah had it in her possession. It was tucked into her shoe."

"St. Agnes. Patron saint of young women… Especially those who remain pure."

"It says S.A.H.S on the back."

"Yeah, St. Agnes High School…" he trailed off thoughtfully. "Except… Sarah Koskoff went to public school… Oh, God," he groaned. Brennan tried to sit up, but his thickly muscled arm was heavy on her chest, so she settled for leaning her head back to look at his face.

"What? What does that mean?"

"It means… I have to talk to a nun," he explained. Brennan's forehead wrinkled in confusion at his tone.

"Why do you say that as if you're discussing an impending dental procedure?" she inquired. "You're Catholic; don't you see nuns at Mass all the time?"

"Yeah, but the kind that teach at high schools like St. Agnes are not the sweet, soft-spoken kind, Bones."

"Hmm. Do you want me to come with you?"

" _No,"_ he answered immediately. She looked a little hurt as his abrupt refusal, and he continued quickly. "It's no big deal, Bones, I can handle it." He finished his reassurance with a charm smile, and she melted easily back into his embrace, looking content. They were silent for a few moments before she spoke again.

"I suppose we should go home," she commented, still moving her fingers in little swirling patterns over his arm. He squeezed her tightly and pressed another kiss into her hair.

"Yeah, let's go," he agreed, releasing her so that she could sit up. He felt her eyes on him as he grabbed his jacket.

"You know, I rather like that color on you," she remarked idly. He glanced at her and saw that she was gazing at him a bit hungrily. Booth wondered if he'd ever get used to _that look_. The look that made it seem as though she would jump him at any moment and that proclaimed her utter and complete possession of him. The look that made him painfully hard every time he saw it grace her beautiful features.

"Oh really?" he asked coyly.

"Yes. Perhaps even as much as I enjoy your black t-shirts…" she replied, tilting her head in speculation. She stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of him, running her palms over his broad chest.

"Mmmm. You like those a lot." His tone was flirtatious, and he bent his head to brush his lips against her jaw. "Not as much as my gray suit, though."

"And your shoulder holster," she added breathlessly, as his mouth left her skin tingling with each pass over her jaw line.

"And my belt buckle."

She released the breath she'd been holding and crushed her lips to his, relishing in the feel of his strong arms around her. He returned the kiss with equal fervor and deepened it, gently sucking her bottom lip. Brennan clung to him a little tighter as she felt the hand at her lower back slip into the waistband of her pants.

"You know, as much as we all enjoy the show, you really should close the blinds before you go much further," Angela interrupted loudly from the other side of the closed door. The couple separated with rueful groans and turned to look at her through the window. They had indeed neglected to close the blinds, and the artist was standing with her hands on her hips, looking rather smug.

They looked back at one another with matching sighs and reluctantly removed their wandering hands.

"Home?" she asked with sultry grin. Booth fought the urge to kiss her again and nodded.

"Home," he agreed.

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Meeting with Sister Karen Dunne the following morning wasn't quite as uncomfortable as Booth had feared, and although neither she nor anyone else at her school knew who Sarah Koskoff was, Sister Dunne recognized the medal immediately. She explained that the medal had been given to a student named Helen Majors, who had disappeared three days ago.

Booth picked Brennan up from the lab, irritably wishing that there were another way to get information from Epps that didn't require his girlfriend sitting in a room with him. Sister Dunne had given him a photograph of Helen Majors receiving the St. Agnes medal, and he handed it to Brennan once she was settled in the passenger seat of the SUV. When Booth relayed the information he'd gotten from the nun, Brennan looked alarmed.

"Three days ago, Helen had that medal. Yesterday we found it on Sarah Koskoff's dead body. It's possible Helen is still alive," she said hopefully.

"We have Caroline Epps under surveillance," he informed her. Booth didn't really think that Caroline was the accomplice, but at this point, it was the only lead they had. His phone chirped from inside his pocket, and he answered it in his usual fashion.

"I hate this," Brennan sighed, exasperated and sickened. "I don't want to find that girl's remains in some mine, Booth." She watched his expression as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call.

"Reiner Hatin? Address… 7408 Haskell Street, Cleveland Park," he repeated back. Booth hung up the phone without another word and reached immediately for the radio handset. "22705 to Control. I'm en route to a possible HRT incident at 7408 Haskell Street. Requesting backup."

" _Affirmative, 22705. 7408 Haskell."_

"What?" Brennan asked as Booth replaced the handset with a grim expression. He quickly explained that the log for Epps' prison letters showed that he had written six letters in the last year to a man by the name of Reiner Hatin at that address. Brennan poked around on the ceiling, looking for the siren, but he gently swatted her hand away and flipped the switch himself.

When they pulled to a stop, Booth ordered her to stay outside while he went in to investigate, but she pointed out that the address was actually a vacant lot.

"Son of a bitch," he spat. Now there was no getting around it.

 _They had to go talk to Epps again._

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Epps was waiting for them once again as they entered the room, and his eyes zeroed in on the hand Booth held securely to the small of Brennan's back as he followed behind her. A muscle in his jaw twitched slightly as he watched the partners take their seats, sitting rather closer together than necessary. It wasn't a coincidence; Booth was intentionally doing his best to get under Epps' skin, hoping to break through that infuriating facade of serene bemusement.

"Did you hear? I'm gonna be a father. The judge granted our petition for artificial insemination." He focused his glittering black eyes on Brennan. "When I make my donation to the baby bank, I'm gonna be thinking about _you_."

Brennan cringed backward in revulsion, and she inched even closer to her partner. Booth's anger flared, but he managed to keep his expression somewhat controlled.

"Who's Reiner Hatin?" Booth asked in a level tone.

"Oh, Reiner…" Epps mused, seemingly unable to keep his eyes off Brennan for more than the span of a heartbeat. "Alter freund mit ahnlichem geschmack." Booth knew Brennan could understand Epps' words but decided to wait to ask for a translation.

"The letters were addressed to a vacant lot," Booth pointed out.

"I must've written the address down wrong. I'm slightly dyslexic, you know."

"Hey, come here," Booth whispered as he leaned in almost casually. Though Brennan could see the way Booth's fury had mounted, Epps did not, and he leaned forward willingly. Booth took hold of Epps chains beneath the table and yanked them roughly as he continued. "You know, I really enjoyed-" _slam_ "-playing your game," he whispered harshly, anger surging through his veins. "Now, you know what? There is a girl out there, hanging upside down with duct tape over her mouth."

Booth was shaking with rage, still holding the chains taut so that Epps was unable to lift his head from the table. Brennan hated that a man like Epps had been able to bring about such a change in her partner, and she placed a hand on Booth's shoulder in attempt to soothe him.

"Booth, let him go. _Let him go._ " She released the breath she'd been unconsciously holding when he not only did as she asked but stood abruptly from the table and paced away. For a moment, she thought he'd been about to leave the room, but instead he stood with his back to Epps and tried to regain control.

Brennan leaned forward and locked eyes with Epps, stifling the urge to vomit at the smug expression on his face.

"For all your… faults, Mr. Epps, you were never interested in letting your victims suffer. You didn't torture them. You're not that kind of man. She's an _innocent child_."

Apparently those were the words Booth had been looking for to push Epps off his game, because the man's face turned menacing as he replied.

"She's a _young woman_...and there's no such thing as an innocent woman." Epps' eyes flickered down to the mark that was still visible on Brennan's neck, and she instinctively lifted a hand to cover it. His lip curled in repugnance as his gaze returned to hers. "Look within yourself. You know I'm right."

Booth crossed the room in long strides with his hands outstretched toward Epps, almost growling, but Brennan was faster. She rose quickly from her chair and stood in Booth's way, her hands lifting to frame his face as she tried to force eye contact.

"Booth, stop!" After a short moment, Booth's hands settled gently at her waist, and his breathing returned to normal as his gaze locked with hers. He nodded stiffly to assure her that he was in control, and he stepped away again. Brennan reclaimed her seat, but sat on the edge of the chair, watching Epps speculatively.

Epps had managed to stuff his temper back behind his walls of complacency and offered up a smile. "You know...I'm just guessing here, you understand, but I think you'll find that Helen Majors has less than 24 hours to live. Better get going," he taunted.

Brennan glared at him for only a half-second longer before she stood up again and intentionally caught her foot on the chain beneath the table. Epps' face made a very satisfying _smack_ ing sound as it hit the table a second time, and Brennan tossed a smooth and unapologetic "Sorry," over her shoulder as she took Booth's hand and pulled him from the room.

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Booth and Brennan returned to the lab, and while he closed himself up in her office to call the Hoover and touch base on the investigation, Brennan headed toward Angela's office. In the twenty minutes it had taken them to drive from the prison to the Jeffersonian, Brennan's own anger had been growing steadily.

"I need help," she announced without preamble as she strode into her friend's office. Angela looked up from her skull reconstruction in surprise, trying to remember if she'd ever heard those three words come out of her friend's mouth."

"What do you need?"

"You said you've dealt with manipulative men before," Brennan reminded her, referring to a past conversation regarding unworthy boyfriends.

"This is about Epps?"

"Of course."

"Sweetie, this is a psycho killer, not some loser who wants you to cosign a loan for his jet ski."

"Epps is pushing me around, Ange. He's in control. _I hate that_." Brennan fell into a chair, facing Angela, and the artist considered the situation for a moment.

"You know, Epps is acting kind of like a boyfriend," Angela suggested, and Brennan looked at her in alarm. "You obviously fascinate him. He can't have you, and he can't _kill_ you, so...he wants to make you hate yourself."

" _What?_ Booth would never act like this… God, Ange. What kind of boyfriends have you had? And that reminds me, actually… What's going on with you and Hodgins?"

"Let's keep the focus on you and Epps, okay?" she replied, smiling ruefully. Brennan nodded, and Angela continued, explaining that Epps knew Brennan would never forgive herself if she didn't find Helen Majors while the girl was still alive. Brennan's eyes stung with the effort to resist tears.

"Of course I wouldn't. Not only is Helen being tortured, but...her family must be in agony."

"You see? This is what he's doing. He's putting pictures in your mind. He's messing with your objectivity. You have to step back, okay? Figuratively speaking," she added when Brennan's eyes narrowed. "Let the rest of us deal with the families. You find Helen. That'll keep Epps from… getting a jet ski out of you." Angela gave her a gentle smile, and Brennan did her best to return it.

She drifted from Angela's office to the platform distractedly, replaying her friend's words. _Had Epps really compromised her objectivity? Had he ruined her ability to compartmentalize?_ The questions circled in her mind as she checked over the work Zack had done in her absence, and a short while later, Booth joined her on the platform.

"Bones," he said, pulling her attention from the computer monitor in front of her. "Caroline Epps...not an accomplice. She was at work when Helen Majors was kidnapped."

"'Alter freund mit ahnlichem geshmack.'"

"Right, I meant to ask you about that…"

"It means 'old friend with similar tastes' in German."

"Oh no, Epps telling us the name of his accomplice? That's too easy," he argued, shaking his head. _There had to be something else important in what he said,_ Booth thought. He began to pace away from her, and she got up to follow him, asking why they hadn't found the accomplice if it was so 'easy.' "You know what? He talked about impregnating Caroline," he reminded her, hoping that perhaps she had heard something in Epps words that he hadn't. Booth had been too irritated by the way Epps had spoken to Brennan during that part of the conversation.

"What is _with_ Caroline Epps?" Brennan groaned, becoming more frustrated with every step they took toward the platform stairs. "I mean, why have a child with a monster like him? What is she gonna tell the child when it grows up? 'Hi, your daddy's a monster…'"

Booth heard the tremor in her voice and reached out to stop her, forcing her to meet his eyes. They were dark and stormy with emotion: fear, hatred, guilt, stress… Booth moved his hands up and down her arms soothingly.

"Look, look… Time out. You gotta detach from this, alright? If we let Epps get under our skin, it's exactly what he wants," he reminded her. Brennan gazed back at him a little incredulously.

"You don't think that's a bit hypocritical, considering your behavior at the jail?" she asked tremulously. He looked appropriately chastised and tilted his head in acquiescence.

"You're right. It was just the way he was talking to you...looking at you…"

"I know. Zack was right. Epps is trying to break us. Not only did we save his life, but he's still killing." They turned as one and descended the platform stairs, and Hodgins materialized almost immediately to relay his latest findings. He'd found traces of ethylene oxide and high levels of an antibacterial agent on Sarah Koskoff's ankles, as well as a polymer residue most likely to have originated from a type of glove specifically engineered to handle toxic substances.

Brennan began to list the type of people who might use that type of glove, and Booth interrupted to ask if a prison guard would do so as well. Brennan shrugged a little and nodded, and Booth dialed Charlie on his cell immediately. While he waited for the agent to pick up, Zack approached the group with a handful of notes. He showed Brennan a photograph of what Booth assumed must be the victim they'd found in the woods.

"Lauren Hathaway," Zack announced. "A nationally ranked junior golfer in 1997." Brennan studied the photograph as Charlie answered her partner's phone call. Booth instructed him to check the records of Epps former prison guards in search of one who was named 'Reiner Hatin' in either the past or present. Brennan pointed out that the name 'Reiner' translates to 'pure,' and Booth added an instruction to translate the name to see if any others come up with the same meaning. After disconnecting the call, Booth peered more closely at the photograph of Lauren Hathaway.

"This the victim from the park?" he asked grimly.

"Her father is in your office," Zack informed Brennan. She looked up at him in surprise.

"What?"

"Why didn't you say that?" Booth asked.

"You were on the phone," Zack replied simply.

" _Booth,"_ she implored him, her fathomless eyes shimmering slightly. "I can't do this one. Maybe Angela can help…"

"Alright," he assured her softly. "I'll take care of it." Brennan nodded gratefully, and her co-workers vanished as Booth pulled her into a gentle embrace. "I'll handle it; why don't you go tell Angela and then wait in her office, okay?" She nodded again.

"I'm sorry…"

"No, no. Don't be. It's okay. I'll come find you when we're done, alright?" He pressed a light and tender kiss to her lips, not caring in the slightest that they were standing in the middle of the lab. Booth watched her walk back toward Angela's office, footsteps heavy and shoulders hunched, and he mentally cursed Howard Epps yet again.

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 **Oh, Epps. What a creep.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Happy Monday! Or maybe...here's a new chapter to improve your Monday?**

 **Thanks as always for all of the reviews and support. :)**

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Chapter 9

Booth coaxed his partner out of the lab for lunch, promising to tell her about the talk with Lauren Hathaway's father once they got to Wong Foo's. She protested for a moment that Helen Majors could still be alive and that they needed to continue working, but Booth reminded her sternly that starving herself wasn't going to help Helen Majors and that they might as well eat while they waited for the report he was expecting. She conceded with little grace, and once they were seated at the bar, he filled her in on what information Grant Hathaway had given them.

At the time of Lauren Hathaway's disappearance, her golf coach had been the prime suspect. That man ended up having a credible alibi, but when Angela showed Mr. Hathaway a couple of age regression sketches she'd done of Howard Epps, he recognized one of them immediately as a former greenskeeper at the country club. Epps had made an odd comment to Lauren about her resemblance to a younger version of his own mother, but although Mr. Hathaway had informed the police about it when she'd disappeared, nothing had ever come of the tip.

Brennan listened pensively as Booth spoke, pushing her food around her plate but eating very little. Sid cleared his throat from a few feet away, eyeing her plate in concern, but she ignored him. Booth went on to explain that he had sent Angela to have lunch with Caroline Epps, hoping that she would be able to coax something more substantial out of the woman than Caroline had been willing to share with Booth. Brennan was slightly surprised at this tactic, but she agreed that Angela was indeed very good at getting people to admit things they were reluctant to discuss.

"She's gonna text if she gets something, and the rest of the squints are still working," Booth assured her. He glanced down at her plate sadly, seeing that she'd barely taken more than a few bites, and he knew that she was just as sick with worry for Helen Majors as he. Brennan caught the direction of his gaze and pursed her lips, making a more diligent effort to finish her meal.

After another fifteen minutes or so, Booth's phone buzzed loudly on the smooth surface of the bar, and he picked it up quickly. Angela had elected to call rather than text, and she relayed the information she'd gotten from Caroline. Booth held the phone so that Brennan could hear as well.

Epps' wife had delivered a handwritten message to the mailbox of a man named Henry Gerber, an acquaintance from prison whom her husband referred to as 'The Mad German.' The message had said, 'Don't you miss them?'

Booth ended the call quickly, tossed a few bills on the bar, and ushered Brennan out the door. He called for backup to the home of Henry Gerber, but when they arrived, they were baffled to discover that the man in question was confined to a wheelchair. The partners returned to the lab, feeling even more exasperated.

"There is no way a man in a wheelchair could have killed Sarah Koskoff or swapped hamate bones with Lauren Hathaway," Brennan said irritably as they gathered with Zack and Hodgins to brainstorm.

"Alright, Epps got us again," Booth grumbled, looking over the contents of a case file he held in his hand. "Gerber's paralyzed from the waist down because Epps knifed him just before he got paroled."

"So...what? His message, 'Don't you miss them?' meant what… his legs?" Hodgins asked, disturbed at the sick joke. Zack was sitting near him, contemplating the situation with an expression of begrudging admiration.

"Epps is good. Not morally, of course, but it's a classic feint-and-parry misdirect, delivered via his wife," Zack mused.

"Where are we on Reiner Hatin?" Brennan queried.

"Nowhere," Booth grunted back, beginning to pace back and forth.

"I had some thoughts," Zack spoke up. He explained that perhaps the German clue had rather been a secret language or anagram, and he turned to the computer monitor next to him to pull up a list of possible anagrams for the name 'Reiner Hatin.' Both he and Hodgins rambled off a few, but one in particular caught Booth's eye as he looked at the list over Zack's shoulder.

"'Neither rain.' Neither…" He gave Brennan a significant look and recited, "'Neither rain, nor sleet, nor dead of night…'" Brennan nodded, eyes widening as her brain leapt ahead.

"The postal service motto," she agreed.

"Mail to an empty lot, messages dropped in mail slots," Booth continued.

"Postal workers wear Polygenex gloves," Hodgins added.

"Who received the letters sent to that empty lot?" Brennan asked, eyes still locked on Booth. They turned simultaneously and raced off the platform toward Angela's office.

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With the help of a postal supervisor, Angela was able to track down the route, which included not only the vacant lot but also Caroline Epps' beauty salon and St. Agnes High School. Booth and Brennan stood behind her as the supervisor emailed the name and photo of the mail carrier assigned to that route, and they sucked in a collective gasp of surprise when the picture popped up.

It was Gil Lappin, the very same man whose dog had absconded with the skeletal arm of Lauren Hathaway just days before.

Gil Lappin's home turned out to be occupied only by his dog, but the partners were unnerved and disgusted to see that the man had covered an entire room with photographs of young blonde women. Among them were Lauren Hathaway, Sarah Koskoff, and Helen Majors.

Night was falling as they drove back toward the lab, but Booth was too impatient to wait until they arrived before trying to get something else out of the squints. Time was running out for Helen Majors, and he knew that they were _so_ very close to finding her. His pulse quickened as Brennan dialed Hodgins and tried to walk him back through the evidence to figure out what they'd missed. She pressed him for information that would tell them where Sarah Koskoff had been held before she died, before her body was placed in the gypsum mine.

After a few moments, however, Booth lost his patience and flat out demanded that Hodgins give them his best guess. Brennan shook her head at him and placed a calming hand on his shoulder as he drove, but Booth continued to berate the entomologist until Angela stepped in and told him to be quiet. The partners listened as she soothed Hodgins and helped him to focus through his panic at the thought that giving the wrong answer at that moment could mean the death of a young girl. Booth watched the road robotically, jaw and fists clenched tightly, and Brennan watched him, listening to her friends work through the clues.

"Anthrax," Hodgins announced. "After the anthrax attacks in 2001, the post office shut down several sorting centers." Booth encouraged him to continue, and Hodgins explained that certain chemicals had been used to clean the sorting centers, and both chemicals had been found on Sarah Koskoff. He went on to say that not all of the sorting centers had reopened, so it was likely that Helen Majors was being held at one that was still abandoned.

Booth thanked and praised him profusely and used his own cell to have an agent track down the precise location. Brennan thanked Hodgins as well as Angela before she ended the call, and she tried to slow her own pulse as Howard Epps' taunting echoed in her mind, ' _I think you'll find that Helen Majors has less than twenty-four hours to live.'_

 _What if they were already too late?_

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The sorting center had all of the hallmarks of an abandoned and derelict building. Its high ceilings gave the place a cavernous atmosphere, but the space was littered with large mail sorting machines in various states of disrepair. Booth had called for backup, but there was no way he was going to sit and wait for them.

Brennan followed Booth through the maze of machinery, lighting their way with a flashlight, and she was surprised but grateful when he pulled his extra gun from his ankle strap and handed it to her.

"Here," he said quietly, thrusting the small pistol in her direction.

"I didn't even have to ask," she remarked. If she hadn't been so focused on finding the missing girl, she'd have taken the opportunity to tease him. Booth rolled his eyes a little as if sensing the words she didn't say.

"Yeah, well, just be careful, alright? Don't shoot me; don't shoot Helen Majors. Otherwise-" he fell silent as the sound of chains rattling reached them. Booth glanced back to meet her wide blue eyes, and they crept forward together, following the sound until they spotted a woman suspended in the air by chains around her ankles and wrists. Her blonde hair cascaded toward the floor, and she rotated on the chain slightly, pleading for help through panicked sobs.

Booth's eyes darted in every direction as they cleared the last entryway standing between them and Helen Majors. He holstered his gun and rushed toward her while Brennan operated the chain to lower the girl to the ground, the pistol still gripped firmly in her hand.

"Please… please help me," Helen whimpered. They partners worked together to lower the girl to the ground.

"Alright, okay…" Booth tried to soothe her distractedly, his eyes still moving furtively in all directions for a glimpse of Gil Lappin. "Take it easy, I've got you, alright? Where is he?" The frightened girl was hyperventilating as she answered.

"He just left. I don't know where he went." She continued to gasp for air as Booth turned and caught Brennan's alert gaze.

"Bones, stay here with her," he insisted. " _Stay here."_ Booth drew his firearm again and left the room cautiously, and Brennan's eyes followed him, barely hearing Helen's pleas through the surge of adrenaline that seemed to flood her ears with a rushing sound. Brennan absently tried to calm the girl, removing the chains quickly and directing her to a hiding place before quietly following after her partner.

When she spotted him, her breath caught in her chest, and terror gripped her. _No…_ Gil Lappin was wielding a crowbar and doing his best to plant it in Booth's skull. Booth appeared to have already taken a blow to the arm, and he'd lost his gun. He rolled this way and that across the concrete floor in his attempt to dodge the crowbar.

The darkness seemed to sharpen slightly as Brennan's own protective instincts rose up within her, and she raised the gun in her hand almost robotically. Her aim was nearly effortless, and the adrenaline-induced clarity sent her bullet precisely where she'd intended. Brennan watched, paralyzed with horror as Lappin dropped his weapon and fell to the ground next to it. She watched the life leave his eyes.

Booth turned in the direction of the shot and caught sight of Brennan's wide eyes and stunned expression, his heart dropping to his stomach as he was struck by the full force of what she'd done for him.

"Is he dead?" Booth asked her, groaning in pain. He leaned over just enough to check Lappin for a pulse and found none. "Yeah, he's dead," he confirmed when she didn't speak. Brennan remained frozen in place for another moment but then lowered the gun slowly in relief. Her still gaped in shock, and she felt dazed as her system tried to rebalance itself after the rush of adrenaline.

"Bones?" he asked in concern, struggling to sit up and cradling his injured wrist delicately.

"I had to shoot him," she insisted in a hollow tone.

"Yeah," he panted. "I'm glad you did." Her eyes were turbulent as they met his, and he hauled himself off the ground and stumbled toward her. When he reached her, he prized the gun carefully from her hand and reengaged the safety before tucking it into his waistband, scarcely taking his eyes off of her.

She was trembling and still disoriented as Booth wrapped his uninjured arm around her and held her close. Although her eyes pricked with tears, Brennan didn't cry. Instead, she locked her arms around Booth's waist and buried her face against his shoulder until her breathing slowed. She gradually came back to herself as they heard the sounds of other agents and cops echoing through the building. They seemed to have found Helen Majors.

"Hey, come on, baby. Let's help get things settled here and go home, okay?" he urged her gently. Brennan didn't answer but shook her head slightly, and her features shifted into an angry expression. Booth was taken aback at the change but was prevented from asking about it by the interruption of an HRT operator.

It took a half an hour to give their statements and oversee the techs as they processed the scene. Booth refused to go to a hospital, and Brennan argued with him heatedly, insisting that he needed an x-ray of his forearm. He compromised by letting the EMTs take a look at it and give him a soft cast, promising that she could drag him to a radiologist the next morning. What he wanted was to get her home as quickly as possible.

Booth watched her cautiously, remembering the way he'd felt the first time he'd pulled a trigger to end someone's life, and he knew exactly the kind of emotional turmoil she was enduring. Brennan's features were practically frozen into a mask of determination and ire, and when they were finally free to leave the scene, she surprised him once more.

"No, we're going to see Epps," she contradicted him with deadly calm. They were in the SUV again, and she had all but forced him into the passenger seat so that she could drive, arguing that his injured wrist made driving too dangerous.

"Not tonight, Bones," he said firmly.

"Yes, tonight." Brennan ignored his insistence and kept her eyes stubbornly forward as steered the vehicle toward the prison. Booth sighed and narrowed his eyes in concern, scrutinizing the tension in her limbs and shoulders. He considered the pros and cons of trying to talk her into changing course, but in the end he decided to give her what she wanted. The gray steel in her eyes was intimidating, and if it had been anyone but Epps, Booth would have almost felt sorry for him.

However, Booth knew full well that, like Brennan, Epps didn't intimidate easily.

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Epps looked back and forth between them speculatively, but for once, he wasn't smiling. Instead, he seemed irritated, and both partners felt somewhat vindicated by that small bit of progress.

"Well done," Epps said sardonically. "Really."

"Game's over, Howie."

"Yes. I won," he claimed, the ghost of a grin dancing in his eyes.

"Only if you wanted your accomplice dead," Brennan clarified. Her expression cold and calculated, and for once, Booth could almost see a trace of the persona she had portrayed to the world not so long ago.

"Lappin's dead?"

"Shot resisting arrest," Booth added.

"Who shot him?" Epps persisted, looking more intensely between the two partners. Brennan made a noise of discomfort and looked away slightly as though she had a foul taste in her mouth.

"It was _you_ , wasn't it?" Brennan lifted her chin defiantly and remained silent, but she didn't look away again. Her icy gaze remained fixed on Epps as he continued, "You shot him? Did he take long to die?" Brennan's jaw clenched almost painfully. "Did he suffer? This is better than I'd hoped," he added, glancing at Booth again. "I thought it would be you."

Booth narrowed his eyes, ready to pull Brennan out of the room at any moment whether she liked it or not. But she held her tongue as Epps continued to unleash his criticisms on her.

"How did it feel? Dirty, yes? But there's also a _rush_. _Pleasure._ Part of you _liked_ it."

"This whole game was to have us kill someone?" Brennan asked with cold anger.

"Who's gonna tell Lappin's mom?" Epps went on, ignoring her question. "She loves him very much, you know. Without her son, she'll be completely alone in this sad world."

Brennan stiffened a little more at the image he presented, and although Epps expression remained firmly emotionless, his eyes were alight with pleasure. Booth put a hand on her shoulder and encouraged her toward the door, fiercely regretting his failure to convince her to just go home.

"We're done with you. You're never gonna see us again," Booth told Epps, keeping his uninjured hand on Brennan until she was out the door. Epps' voice followed him tauntingly, but Booth ignored him, his focus solely on getting Brennan home quickly and safely.

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As they made their way home, Brennan's emotions shifted slowly from shock and anger to confusion and guilt. She stared straight ahead as her brilliant mind chased logic in endless circles. Booth glanced over at her repeatedly, but she remained silent until they were in the house.

"Want a drink?" he offered gently as he watched her hang up her jacket.

"Maybe just some water," she replied, collapsing onto the couch. "You should take something for your arm, Booth."

"The EMT's gave me something. I'm good for a while," he assured her. Booth saw her scowl in disagreement, but she didn't argue. He came to sit next to her on the couch and handed over the glass of water he'd poured for her. She thanked him softly and took a drink.

"Sure you don't want some vodka or scotch?" he asked with a tiny grin.

"No, this is fine. It _is_ still 'on the rocks,'" she joked, returning the smile. Booth relaxed a little more to see her lips curving slightly upward, but he could still see the conflict in her eyes.

"It's been a while since you've been drunk," he pointed out, remembering the night she'd unintentionally revealed a meth-covered mummy in the wall of a nightclub. "If ever there was a night to indulge, this would be it, Bones." He extended his own glass of amber liquid toward her, but she shook her head, so he placed it on the coffee table.

"I'm fine, Booth," she said, out of lingering habit. "I've been thinking about it, and… I'm fine."

"Okay," he replied, smirking a little. "So what I'm getting from you here is that you're _fine_." She met his eyes and saw that her words hadn't convinced him any more than they ever had, and she leaned into him, feeling a little better when he settled his good arm around her shoulders.

"I know I had to shoot him. He murdered Sarah, he was about to murder Helen… and even if he hadn't done those things, he was trying to kill you. That alone would have been reason enough. I'm not upset that I shot him."

"You're upset that Epps played us again. You're afraid that he turned you into a killer," he said quietly. Brennan kept her eyes trained on the glass of water in her hand, and a shadow of remorse fell over her features. "You have to come to grips with the fact that you killed another human being. Because when you kill someone, there's a cost. It's a steep cost. I know; I've done it." Her shining blue eyes lifted to his face again.

"I did the right thing."

"I know. I was there." Booth lifted his partially immobilized hand to brush away a tear that had spilled over her dark lashes.

"It's more than that though, isn't it?" she asked with a tormented expression.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… I had a good reason to pull that trigger, but... does that make me any less of a murderer than my father is?"

Booth was startled that she'd made that connection so quickly, and he squeezed her tightly against his side as he considered his answer.

"I understand how you got to that conclusion, Bones, but you're forgetting something. The same thing you've reminded me of when we talk about the lives _I've_ taken. You were doing your job, and your actions saved lives. Mine included." She was silent as she contemplated that, still looking a little ill, so he continued, "Do you consider me a murderer?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Of course not!" she said quickly, stiffening in his arms at the suggestion. The warmth in his brown eyes conveyed his point just as easily as actual spoken words, and she understood him perfectly. _By her own logic, she was not a murderer either_. Brennan relaxed into him once again and closed her eyes with a long sigh. Booth held her quietly for a few more moments before he spoke again.

"We should go to bed. But first… I've got something for you," he said softly, encouraging her to sit up so that he could dig the small object out of his pocket. He'd spotted it in a store and bought it on a whim, hoping she wouldn't think it was too corny.

Brennan watched in surprise as he extracted a tiny plastic pig from his jacket and held it out toward her. Her eyes stung again, but her smile was more natural this time.

"Meet... _Jasper_ ," he chuckled, leaning in toward her until their noses were mere inches apart. Brennan laughed a little and reached out to take the tiny pig, smiling at it affectionately before she turned her eyes back to his. She closed the distance between their mouths and pressed a soft kiss of gratitude to his lips. When she pulled back, he added, "I'm sure that's not quite what you had in mind, but I don't think we're allowed to keep pigs in this neighborhood."

"I love you, Booth," she laughed, shaking her head. "You're right, of course. This is perfect," she assured him, smiling back at Jasper briefly.

"I love you too, baby. Let's get some sleep, okay?"

Brennan nodded and leaned forward to take their drinks from the coffee table, sipping his scotch as she walked to the kitchen sink.

"You know, you really shouldn't be drinking on top of whatever the paramedics gave you."

"It was just ibuprofen, Bones, and I only had a little bit. Don't worry so much."

"Booth, you have a hairline fracture to your distal radius at the very least, you should take more than just ibuprofen," she scolded him. Booth thought about pointing out that he'd have been home sooner to take more medicine if she hadn't insisted on visiting Epps, but he knew that would only compound her guilt. So he allowed her to fuss over him, swallowing the pain pill she handed him and following her obediently up the stairs.

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Booth encased her in his arms as they both attempted to sleep, and although sleep took hours to find them, they didn't speak, choosing to communicate through gentle caresses and contented sighs. Brennan dozed off first, and Booth fought the medication-induced lethargy for as long as possible, knowing that her sleep would be fitful and restless. He wished there was something he could do to keep the nightmares away, but his only real option was to keep her body pressed closely against his own and hope that her subconscious mind would recognize the safety of his embrace.

It worked for a few hours. Brennan twitched and whimpered fretfully in his arms, and each time her movements roused him, he responded automatically, stroking her hair and skin while he made gentle shushing noises. She never seemed to come fully awake, and though it was a long night of too-light sleep for Booth, he was grateful that she hadn't woken up screaming.

Both of them were moving slower than usual the next morning, but Booth followed through on his compromise to have his arm x-rayed first thing. The break wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, most likely owing to the fact that Booth's arm had been moving away from the impact at the time. He was cleared to keep using the soft cast and was given a new prescription for painkillers. Booth didn't intend to take them for any longer than was absolutely necessary, knowing what narcotic analgesics did to him. He surmised that a mentally absent, poorly behaved boyfriend was probably the last thing Brennan needed at the moment.

Although Cullen had ordered Booth to take the day off, Brennan was determined to make an appearance at the lab. Booth tried to argue with her, but she remained adamant.

"I won't be there all day, Booth," she promised. "I just want to grab a few files from my office and check on Zack."

"Okay," he sighed. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, of course not. You just took a painkiller, Booth; you're going to be mentally impaired fairly soon, I should think."

"Don't say it like that," he whined. "That makes me sound crazy."

"Well, do I need to hide the beer before I leave?" she snickered, recalling his fixation with the beverage the last time he'd been injured. He glared playfully at her and pulled her into his arms for a kiss. His lips lingered for several moments longer than he'd intended, and when at last he released her, she was looking a little dazed.

"Bones, what about… parking?" She hadn't driven herself and been alone in the parking garage since her kidnapping, though she had made definite progress in the past month. She no longer seemed to be so terrified of the place when circumstances forced her to be there.

"I've been thinking about that, actually," she sighed. "I've decided to start driving myself to work again, at least on the days that it doesn't make sense for us to carpool. If we're going to a meeting or a crime scene together first thing in the morning, then I'll ride with you. Otherwise, it doesn't make much sense for me to be stranded at the lab unless you come pick me up. The money we save by carpooling is canceled out by the cab fare I pay when I have to go somewhere."

Booth listened calmly without interrupting as she rambled through her logic, and he pursed his lips sadly, hearing her underlying motive whether she acknowledged it or not.

"You know, I actually _like_ driving you back and forth, Bones. I like having that time together."

"I know, but… most nights, you end up waiting for me in my office until I'm ready to leave, and you could be doing much more valuable things with your time."

"Being there for you will never be a waste of my time," he replied softly, shaking his head at her. Her features softened, and she reached up to stroke his stubbled cheek.

"Thank you. But I… I think this is something I need to do. I need to confront the fear and move on, to stop being so weak…"

Booth moved his own hand to _her_ cheek then and forced her to meet his eyes.

"I get that, Bones, but _you are not weak_. I know how strong you are, and I've never doubted it for an instant, no matter how you get to work and back."

"Thank you," she said again. "I think I also need to get back into my martial arts classes. I haven't been since before…" Brennan trailed off, but Booth didn't need any further clarification. _Since before Peter took her,_ he finished her statement inwardly. He nodded to show that he understood, and she continued, "I think it will give me some peace of mind."

"I agree. It sounds like a good idea." She smiled at him, and Booth was glad to see that the expression seemed more effortless than it had the previous evening. He kissed her goodbye and watched her go, plopping down on the couch with a long sigh as he reached for the remote.

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Brennan kept her promise not to stay at the lab for very long. They no longer had an active case, and while she could have easily gotten lost in a Limbo case to distract her from the events of the previous day, she knew from experience that Booth really shouldn't be left alone for very long if he'd taken his vicodin.

She was relatively pleased with herself for facing the parking structure on her own with a minimal amount of anxiety, both on her way in as well as out. It didn't stop her from scanning the area cautiously, but there was no apparent danger. Brennan picked up lunch on her way back home, and when she stepped through the doorway, she was greeted by a very cheerful Booth.

"You're home!" he announced with a huge grin, sweeping her up into an awkward hug in spite of the takeout bag in her hand.

"Yes, I know," she acknowledged, peering up at his brown eyes. They didn't appear to be quite as dilated as the last time he'd been on vicodin, but his expression was almost unnaturally happy. "Enjoying your medication, I see," Brennan remarked with a smirk.

"I only took half this time so hopefully I won't be such a pain in the ass," he nodded animatedly. _This is what a half dose does?_ she thought, watching his brows lift as his eyes swept the length of her body appreciatively. Their progress halted on the bag in her hand. "You brought food!" he exalted.

Brennan steered him toward the kitchen table and pushed him into a chair, setting the takeout bag in front of him before she went into the kitchen for a couple of drinks. When she returned, he'd managed to arrange everything on the table and was happily sucking lo mein noodles into his mouth. Brennan rolled her eyes a little at his immaturity but couldn't suppress a smile.

Sharing a meal with a drugged Booth was something like having lunch with a toddler, Brennan suspected. He was messy, played with his food, and whined until she surrendered the last egg roll. Booth might have thought that his intoxicated state would be a burden to her, but Brennan actually felt relief at the light-hearted shift in the atmosphere. It meant that she could think about happy things as opposed to the life she'd taken less than twenty-four hours ago.

Not long after they finished their meal, Booth seemed to progress from toddler-like behavior to that of a horny teenager. He managed to pull her onto his lap as he sat on the couch, and Brennan didn't even bother putting up a fight. She craved the warmth and security that could only be found in his arms, and she snuggled into him gratefully.

For a long while, Booth seemed content to simply hold her and run his uninjured hand over her long limbs, sneaking under the hem of her shirt to caress the soft skin hidden beneath. Her scent invaded his senses, and he savored the feeling of her face buried against his neck. His high faded slowly until the haze lifted from his thoughts, and he was glad that his wounded arm only throbbed a little.

Brennan could have fallen asleep on his lap were it not for the constant movements of his hand as it played over her skin and the utterly intoxicating scent of his. It was hard to tell which of them was more affected: Booth by his medication or Brennan by Booth. She couldn't resist the inclination to press her lips to the satiny skin of his neck a few times, and she smiled as he shuddered beneath her in response.

"Bones," he sighed, pulling his head back far enough to see her face. She searched his eyes, trying to determine whether or not she would be taking advantage of him if she continued, and she was pleased to see that the medication seemed to have worn off for the most part. Brennan gazed back at him, her blue eyes full of tenderness and desire, and his breath caught in his chest at the slow smile that worked its way across her beautiful face.

There were times when her beauty could stun him, even after having spent nearly every day in her presence for over a year. Whether she was riding next to him in his SUV, lying next to him in bed, or literally squinting at a set of remains, her elegance and grace had the ability to leave him struggling for oxygen as well as coherent thought. This was one of those times. What made it all the more entrancing was that she didn't seem to realize how a mere glance in her direction had such a physical impact on him.

"Booth," she purred, kissing his lips lightly. "Are you in pain?"

"Yeah, but not the kind you're talking about," he answered with a wicked grin. He knew she was referring to his arm, but at the moment, another part of his anatomy was aching even more. Aching for her.

"Hmmm. Maybe we should do something about that then," she suggested. Brennan kissed him once more and stood between his parted legs. He hoped she was getting up to either pull him upstairs to their bedroom or even remove her clothing right there, but she had other ideas. She knelt on the floor between his knees and slowly worked his pants and boxers down and over his legs. Booth knew what she intended, but it didn't stop his body from jerking reactively when the tip of her tongue swept the underside of his arousal.

Brennan teased him for several long minutes, brushing her tongue this way and that, and circling the tip at an agonizingly slow pace. Booth's head fell back against the couch, and he groaned loudly, trying to pull her upward by her arms in spite of his injury.

"Stop, you're going to hurt your arm," she scolded, lifting her mouth away only long enough to say the words.

"Then get up here," he begged. Brennan shook her head and kept her eyes locked on his as she took him into her mouth completely. Booth gasped as he watched her eyes change color slightly, darkening with desire while she began a steady rhythm. Every few passes, she would push him all the way into her mouth, relaxing her throat until her lips were wrapped around the base of his erection, and it was all he could do to maintain a sliver of self-control.

It seemed that self-control was not what she wanted from him, however, and Brennan increased her pace gradually until his fingers had gathered a handful of her hair, holding tightly as he shouted his release. He exploded into her mouth, and she didn't lift her head until his tremors ceased.

She pulled his clothing back into place and settled herself back on his lap, looking rather smug as she observed his efforts to slow his breathing. He grinned back at her affectionately, still completely overwhelmed by her.

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," she smiled. "Besides, you can return the favor later."

"Mmmm… exactly when is ' _later?'_ " he asked, stealing a soft kiss from her upturned mouth.

"We'll see," she hedged. "Right now you need another pill though."

"Nah, I'm good. _Spectacular_ , actually…" Booth closed his eyes with a sated grin and hugged her tighter to him, ignoring the twinge in his arm. He must've flinched slightly, because in the next second, she was pulling out of his arms and walking toward the kitchen. He frowned at the loss of her warmth.

"Oh, stop pouting," she chided him when she returned. Brennan had come back with a glass of water and another half pain pill.

"You got up," he complained. "I was enjoying the feeling of a sexy woman on my lap." Booth winked at her as he obediently swallowed the pill and handed the glass back to her.

"Yes, well...lap dances later. You should take a nap while I try to make some progress on the paperwork I brought home."

"Promise?" he asked, brown eyes gleaming with mischief. She chuckled and leaned down to kiss him gently.

"If you behave."

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Brennan's nightmares found her again that evening, and this time, she woke up screaming. Booth was jolted out of his own slumber and quickly folded her into a tight embrace, shushing and soothing her until she quieted. When only the occasional sob or sniffle punctuated the darkness of their bedroom, Booth felt he'd held his silence long enough.

"Talk to me, Bones," he pled gently.

"I'm okay," she lied.

"No you're not. And you _shouldn't_ be, so there's nothing to feel ashamed of." Brennan didn't answer for a few moments, but he waited patiently for her to speak.

"I… I keep seeing his eyes," she whispered. Booth nodded and held her a little tighter, knowing exactly what she meant.

"I know how hard it is," he promised. "But you really did do the right thing, Bones."

"I know. I did it to protect you, and I'd do it again without hesitation. I just...hope I'll never have to."

"Me too, baby." Booth cringed at the thought that she had killed someone _for him_. "I'd do the same for you. I'd do _anything_ for you. Kill for you, die for you… Anything."

Brennan made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob as she pulled back to look at his face. His expression was utterly sincere, and it scared the hell out of her.

" _You do not have permission to die,"_ she insisted through watery eyes. Brennan's mind was assaulted by the images his words had presented, and the thought that he might actually get himself killed to save her made her chest ache with terror.

"I know, Bones. I didn't mean it like that," he soothed, regretting that he'd unintentionally caused her more pain and fear. He hadn't been exaggerating, but perhaps that hadn't been the best thing to say under the circumstances. Brennan clung to him, still trembling, and it was a long while before she succumbed to sleep once more.

Booth ignored the pain in his arm and continued to hold her close, fighting his exhaustion for as long as possible. By the time he could no longer resist the need to sleep, the sun was peeking over the horizon.

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 **Let me know what you think. :)**

 **The next handful of chapters will focus primarily on AU stuff, hopefully to make up for the last three having to be so case-oriented. I'm also spoiling you with tons of smut that will have to taper off when the big bad Gravedigger comes. See you Wednesday!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello my lovely readers. Thank you for all of the wonderful feedback and support.**

 **Enjoy!  
-Christi**

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Chapter 10

Against his girlfriend's wishes, Booth insisted on going in to work the following morning. He was managing his pain with over-the-counter pain relievers, and he felt that he should at least make an appearance and check in with his agents before the weekend. If there were any messes to be cleaned up, it would be better if he knew about them before Monday. Brennan argued that they could easily call him if his help was needed and that he should take it easy for another day. They were scheduled to have Parker that weekend, and she knew that he would downplay his pain so that he could give Parker his full attention.

"If you insist on going to work, then at least make it a half day," Brennan implored him. Booth shot her an incredulous look.

"You know, if it were _you_ with your arm in a brace, you'd have tried to skip your pain meds completely and snuck into the lab within hours of being injured," he accused playfully. She rolled her eyes and decided not to give him the satisfaction of a response.

"Come home after lunch," she said firmly, ignoring his attempts to coax a smile out of her as he snaked an arm around her waist and gave her his best charm smile.

"I'll bring something to the lab and eat lunch with you," he countered.

"And then you'll come home," she finished stubbornly. Booth gave an exaggerated sigh but nodded.

"Then home."

Brennan smiled victoriously and kissed him goodbye. She was expected a little earlier than usual that day for the arrival of some ancient remains. Once she'd left, Booth finished getting ready and headed into work, hoping that the stack of paperwork he would find on his desk would be somewhat manageable.

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Less than an hour into his morning, Booth's phone buzzed with an incoming text from Rebecca. She was canceling his weekend _again_ , and this time she hadn't even given him the courtesy of an actual phone call. Booth suppressed the urge to chuck his phone across the room and focused on deep, calming breaths. He didn't reply to the text, and by eleven, he figured it was close enough to lunch that he could head over to the lab. He couldn't bear to sit still any longer, trying to keep a hold on his temper.

Brennan looked up in concern when she noticed him in her office doorway, not having expected him quite so soon.

"You're here earlier than I thought you'd be. Are you okay?"

Booth knew that she was referring to his pain level and he shrugged noncommittally. The truth was that he'd been so irritated, he hadn't even given his injured arm a second thought since earlier that morning.

"My arm is fine," he replied with a weary sigh. Brennan continued to scrutinize his expression.

"Then what's wrong? You're upset." Booth gave her an approving nod and began to arrange their lunch on the coffee table. She perched on the couch next to him and waited patiently for an explanation.

"Rebecca texted," he said simply. The look on Brennan's face told him that she understood the implication immediately. "I really can't keep doing this, Bones."

"Then don't. Talk to her, tell her what you want. Make her understand how hard this is on Parker. She might not care how hard it is on _you_ , but she does love her son, even if she behaves selfishly sometimes."

" _Sometimes?"_ he echoed sarcastically. Booth was quiet for a moment, considering how to even broach the subject with her. Every tactic he'd tried in the past had failed miserably, either due to Rebecca's short temper or his own. Brennan was contemplating the best option as well.

"Maybe… Maybe invite her over to the house to sit down and talk about it like adults. Not over the phone or by text where she can simply disengage, and not in your office where she might try to make a scene."

Booth nodded, trying to think of what he would say to her when she got there. If she even agreed to come in the first place.

"Will you be there?" he asked hopefully. Brennan cringed a little.

"I think she would feel less threatened if it was just you and her. Especially since she doesn't seem to like me," she replied, thinking back to the looks of disdain Rebecca had given her throughout their day at the zoo. Booth frowned but nodded, seeing her point.

He texted Rebecca a short message asking her to stop by the house later that afternoon, saying that it was important but giving no further explanation. To his surprise, she agreed and said she would be there around four. Brennan was surprised as well as a little encouraged.

"Well, maybe the text wasn't a means of avoiding you then," she suggested. "Maybe she just couldn't talk at the time."

Booth shrugged and gazed at her tenderly. He wondered if he would ever stop being amazed by her unwavering support. They finished their lunch, and he gave her a goodbye kiss that left her toes curling in her boots.

"I'll plan on being home around six," she advised him. "Do you think that will give you enough time to talk to her?"

"I doubt she'll stick around to listen to me for that long, but we'll see. Whether she's still there or not, don't work late, okay? It's your home too, so don't feel like you have to stay away to avoid her. She'll just have to get over it."

Brennan nodded and kissed him again before watching him go, hoping that Booth would be able to get through to his ex.

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Rebecca showed up a little after four, and Booth was surprised to see that she seemed to be in a good mood. Either she really didn't understand what he wanted to talk about or…she didn't want to talk at all. _Fuck,_ he cursed inwardly. He recognized the look on her face and knew precisely what was coming.

Within seconds of the front door closing behind her, she was pressing herself against him and slipping her arms around his back. Booth pushed her away immediately, disgusted with her behavior.

" _What the fuck do you think you're doing?"_ he demanded.

"Why _else_ would you invite me over in the middle of the day, Seeley?" she purred, not at all dissuaded by his attempts to put space between them. He'd played hard to get before, and she was more than equal to the challenge.

Booth glared at her, not quite able to believe what was happening. _You have got to be kidding me,_ he thought.

"It sure as hell wasn't for _that_ ," he sputtered angrily. "I wanted to sit down like grownups and talk about Parker."

"What about him?" Rebecca asked irritably, dropping the seductive facade in a heartbeat.

"I'm tired of my time with him relying on your unpredictable moods. I have a right to see my son." Booth was doing his best to speak calmly, but his frustration bled into his tone, and Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.

"It has nothing to do with my _mood_ , Seeley, we just have things going on this weekend."

In truth, Rebecca had absolutely nothing planned, and that was the problem. She and Drew had decided to take a break not long after their last trip to the zoo with Parker, and she just couldn't stand the idea of being alone all weekend. Parker would be able to distract her, and that was what she needed right now. Which was why she'd been more than happy to receive Booth's text, asking her to come over. She'd assumed that he was interested in fooling around while Brennan was at work.

"Well, you can do them without Parker. He hasn't had a full weekend with his father in _months_ , Rebecca."

"I've told you before: I don't _have_ to let you see him."

"That's bullshit, and you know it. You're a _lawyer_. You _know_ that I have a right to see my son, whether you like it or not. I've had enough, Rebecca. If I have to take you to court, then I will."

Rebecca gazed back at him, stunned. Booth had never had the nerve to threaten her with legal action, and she didn't have to look far for the reason he'd changed tactics.

"Did Dr. Brennan tell you say that?" she asked, sneering a little. "She's got _my_ son wrapped around her finger, and now she wants you to try to take him away from me?" Her voice trembled as she spoke, and although she tried to keep her expression confident, Booth saw through it.

"She would _never_ suggest that. And _I_ would never _do_ that, Rebecca. You're his mother, and he needs you. He loves you; how on earth could I try to take him away from you? No one's going to do that, and no one is suggesting that." He was angry at the way she'd talked about Brennan, but this point was more important.

"Then why are you talking about going to court?" she pressed, still not entirely reassured.

"Because I can't keep doing this. I can't keep having this same argument with you, and I can't keep wondering when I'm going to be able to see my own child. It's not fair to me, and it's sure as hell not fair to him."

Rebecca looked away, allowing her eyes to roam the portion of the living room that was visible from where she stood. They had a very nice home: clean and well-organized, comfortable and welcoming. She didn't know why that angered her, but it did. She caught sight of a framed photograph hanging on the wall opposite from the front door. It was an enlarged snapshot of Brennan and Parker that Booth had taken earlier that year, and her own possessiveness of her son swelled once more.

"I apologize for the short notice about this weekend, but we have plans," she said brusquely, ignoring everything he'd just said about what was fair and who was being hurt by her actions. Rebecca crossed the foyer to the front door and left quickly, slamming it behind her to drown out the sound of his protests.

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Booth stood in the silence for a few moments, gritting his teeth in frustration. _Son of a bitch_. He shook his head at his ex-girlfriend's audacity and turned on his heel, mounting the stairs two at a time and changing quickly into a pair of gym shorts and sneakers.

He spent the next hour or so on the treadmill, trying to outrun his anger, and when that didn't work, he went after the punching bag he'd hung from the basement ceiling when they'd moved in. Though he could only use one hand, it served its purpose, and that was how Brennan discovered him when she came home.

"Are you trying to break your _other_ arm?" she asked, looking a little disturbed. She crossed the room toward him, and he stopped punching when she came to stand next to him. Her hand immediately took hold of his to inspect the damage he'd done. He had taped his knuckles, but they were bleeding a little anyway, and she gave him a reproachful scowl.

Booth allowed her to pull him up the stairs to the kitchen and hold an ice pack to his hand. She inspected his bruised knuckles carefully and was slightly mollified to find the bones in good shape. Brennan placed the ice pack carefully back over his hand and poured him a glass of scotch.

"I assume it went poorly?" she asked sympathetically. He snorted and brought the glass to his lips.

"You could say that."

"What happened? You thought her willingness to come over was a good sign."

"Hah," he scoffed, looking angry again. "She came over because she thought I was making a booty call. That's-"

"I know what it is," she interrupted, her voice low and dangerous. He didn't blame her. If one of her exes had done the same to her, he _would_ have broken his other hand. _On the guy's face._

"Yeah, well after I made it absolutely clear that _that_ wasn't going to happen, it pretty much went downhill from there." He recounted the conversation, watching Brennan's face cautiously as he spoke. She was angry, that much was clear. But she was also offended at the implication that she would ever try to come between Parker and his mother, and she felt compelled to make sure Rebecca understood that was not the case and never would be. She contemplated the situation for a moment before she spoke again.

"You know I would never do that, right? I love Parker very much, and though I do consider him to be my child, I'm not his mother and never will be." Booth winced at the hurt in her voice and quickly reassured her.

"Of course I know that, Bones. I've never doubted your intentions with Parker, and I corrected Rebecca's assumption immediately. I don't know if I got through to her, but trust me," he said firmly, tilting her chin up so that she made eye contact, "I'm the absolute last person who needs convincing on this issue. Okay?"

Brennan nodded and smiled sadly, still concerned about what would happen next. They made dinner together and discussed their options as they ate. Booth could go 'all in,' as he described it, and hire a lawyer first thing Monday morning, allowing his attorney to handle the proceedings on his behalf. He could also give Rebecca a few days to calm down and try talking to her again next week. Booth said that he would take the rest of the weekend to think about it, and Brennan agreed with that plan but added a suggestion of her own.

"Really? You know what he thinks of her," Booth reminded his girlfriend with a chuckle. "I think his opinion is pretty much a foregone conclusion, don't you?"

"Hank might have some helpful insights," she argued. "If you ask the right questions, that is. We could go visit him tomorrow. We haven't seen him in a while."

That much was certainly true. They'd visited a couple of times over the summer, and Booth still checked in with his grandfather every week, but they hadn't been up to see him since they'd returned from North Carolina.

"Maybe you're right," he admitted. Booth had heard his grandfather run his mouth about Rebecca more times than he cared to remember, and he shuddered a little at the thought of actually _asking_ him to talk about her. But Brennan was right; when Booth needed guidance he found it in one of two places, Brennan or Hank.

After dinner, he called his grandfather to let him know they'd be visiting, and he grinned widely as he hung up the phone.

"I've been instructed not to bother showing up unless I bring you with me," Booth announced, watching her change into a rather skimpy pair of pajamas and reach for her lotion as she climbed into bed. She had washed her face clean of makeup, and Booth thought she looked absolutely perfect. He watched her hands move methodically to rub the lotion into her skin, and he found himself wishing she'd put those hands to better use.

Brennan laughed at the relayed message from Hank, smiling fondly at the idea of seeing him the next morning. He had offered her comfort in the weeks and months following her kidnapping, particularly when she'd been feeling upset about her father.

" _He did what he could to help get you home safe, Sweetheart. Even if his method wasn't what you'd have expected, he still saved you. That's not nothing."_

Brennan remembered Hank's words and sighed, remembering the lives that had been taken on behalf of Max Keenan's family. She had taken a life now too, and although she'd had a damn good reason, she was certain that Max had felt his actions were justified as well. Was it all simply varying degrees of murder?

Booth pulled her out of her reverie with a soft kiss to her temple, and she smiled at him, switching off the bedside lamp and enjoying the feel of his strong arms as they came around her. He continued to press his lips to her face and neck, and he had her aroused and ready for him in mere seconds, drawing breathless moans from her throat as his mouth worshipped every exquisite inch of her.

They made love slowly, cautious of his injury and savoring every delicious sensation until they were crying out together in simultaneous release. Brennan clung to him as her pulse slowed, desperate to keep him inside of her for as long as possible, and Booth kissed her tenderly and deeply, no more eager to separate than she.

Eventually, they collapsed in one another's arms and drifted to sleep, and Booth hoped that Brennan's demons would leave her in peace that night.

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As Booth had predicted, Hank used more than a few colorful words to voice his opinion of Rebecca and her behavior, but while Booth blushed with embarrassment, Brennan merely chuckled in amusement at them both.

"You know, I thought that Booth picked up his crude vocabulary from his time in the Army," she teased. "Now I know better."

"Well, he certainly shouldn't be speaking that way around a lady," Hank replied, giving his grandson a rather surly look. Booth sputtered at the injustice of the chastisement.

" _You_ just did," he pointed out before turning to Brennan. "And besides, I've only ever talked like that around you when I'm on narcotics for pain."

"Yeah, but I'm old. You can get away with a lot more when you're my age," Hank cackled. Booth rolled his eyes, and Brennan smiled affectionately at the older man.

"Hmpf…" Booth grumbled. Hank ignored him.

"Now anyway, like I was saying… You've gotta get this situation under control, Shrimp. I know you respect Rebecca because she's your son's mother, but in this case, you're giving her more credit than she deserves. She's in the wrong here. And you can't be afraid to do what's right, even if it won't be easy."

"So you think I should take her to court."

"I think you should do whatever it takes," he clarified. "If you've exhausted all other options, and what you're left with is a legal fight, then… it is what it is. It's not like you haven't given her plenty of opportunities to do the right thing by her kid."

Brennan watched Booth's expression curiously, wondering if Hank's advice was helping him. She was of a similar frame of mind, but it wasn't her opinion that weighed the most heavily in this situation. Brennan also found herself slightly distracted by Hank's use of the phrase 'all other options.' _Have we really tried everything?_ she wondered. Before she could give it much more thought, however, her attention was drawn back to the conversation.

"She actually tried to put the moves on you in your own house that you share with another woman?" Hank asked in disgust. Brennan felt her face growing hot at the reminder.

"Yeah," Booth scoffed, glancing cautiously at Brennan.

"Guess it's a good thing Shrimp doesn't let you carry a gun around, huh Sweetheart?" Hank joked.

"Probably," Brennan admitted, avoiding Booth's eyes. Both men smiled knowingly, and Booth took the opportunity to change the subject a few minutes later. He and Brennan listened as Hank filled them in on the inner workings and social hierarchy of the retirement community, and the three of them passed an enjoyable hour discussing Hank's lady friends and his distaste for a certain orderly.

By the time they left to head home, Booth was feeling better about the situation overall, and once they were back on the road, he thanked Brennan for suggesting they visit Hank.

"You were right, Bones. Talking to him did make things better."

"Have you made a decision then?" she asked curiously.

"Well, at the very least I'm gonna give her a couple days to calm down, cause she was pretty pissed yesterday. And the next time I try to talk to her will be in a public place, to be sure," he added darkly. "But I think if she doesn't come around to at least _discussing_ getting something in writing, then I'll hire a lawyer."

Brennan nodded and considered how she might be able to help. She was fairly certain she could convince Booth to accept financial help for a lawyer at this point, but she thought perhaps it might not have to come to that.

The beginnings of a plan were starting to thread themselves together in her mind.

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"Booth, we'll be late," she admonished him as his hand wandered determinedly beneath the skirt she'd just pulled on. She was standing in front of her dresser, attempting to put on a pair of earrings, but he was making the task rather difficult. Booth ignored her words and pressed open-mouthed kisses to her throat as his fingers slipped beneath her panties and stroked her encouragingly.

"It'll be worth it," he promised. Brennan moaned in spite of herself, and their eyes met in the mirror. Her gaze was challenging, and he smirked a little before circling her clit with his index finger. She gasped as her eyes slammed shut.

"We really don't have time," she groaned, but her hands were reaching behind her to caress him through the dress pants he hadn't even finished buttoning.

"It won't take long," he chuckled. "You know what the sight of you in a skirt does to me."

"Mmmm… Guess I forgot," she murmured, plunging a hand into his boxers to grasp him firmly.

"Sure you did," he grinned against her skin. The top she'd chosen was cut rather low as well, and he had a perfect view of her breasts as he looked over her shoulder. His fingertips played skillfully against her slick folds, until she was breathing heavily and pushing his pants and boxers down. Booth took his cue from her and slid her panties over her hips so that they dropped to her ankles.

He lifted the skirt to her waist as she leaned forward and braced her hands against the polished surface of the dresser, and their eyes met again in the mirror. Booth held her gaze, watching her eyes change as he filled her completely. His movements were almost torturously slow, and Brennan whimpered with need.

"Booth. _Please…_ "

"'Please' what, baby?" he leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

"Harder. Fuck me…"

He nearly lost it right then and there, shuddering at the way the profanity sounded coming from his typically professional and eloquent partner.

"Oh God, Bones," he groaned. "Hold on, baby."

Brennan gripped the dresser more firmly as his pace quickened, crying out as he pounded into her repeatedly. It became difficult to hold herself upright on her own shaking legs, and Booth curved an arm beneath her hips to support her. She hadn't taken her eyes off his face, and she watched his features contort with pleasure as she voluntarily clenched her walls around him.

Booth slammed into her with a passion that was almost desperate, causing the miscellaneous objects on the dresser to rattle, and Brennan reached her climax only moments later. She cried out as the waves of ecstasy overtook her, and his own release followed swiftly. Booth continued to support her hips until she regained enough strength to stand on her own, panting as their eyes met in the mirror again.

He slipped out of her with a groan just as the cell phone next to her on the dresser buzzed with an incoming call. Brennan was still collecting herself and working on standing upright, so he answered the phone a little breathlessly.

"Booth."

"Um… Good morning," Cam greeted him, sounding a little odd. "I was trying to reach Dr. Brennan; is she available?"

"Just a minute," he replied, pulling the phone away from his ear to look at it more closely. He'd apparently picked up her cell without checking the caller ID, but he shrugged, figuring it wasn't as big of a deal as the last time one of them had answered the other's phone.

"It's Cam," he said quietly as he handed Brennan the phone. She wedged it between her ear and shoulder while she cleaned herself up.

"Brennan."

Booth cleaned up and finished getting dressed while she talked, listening curiously to her side of the conversation. They were needed at a crime scene apparently, so he grabbed a pair of her pants out of the closet while she finished up in the bathroom, knowing that she preferred not to wear skirts in the field.

Brennan ended the call and walked back into the bedroom quickly, smiling in surprise when he held the pants out for her.

"Thank you," she said, changing quickly into a clean pair of underwear and pulling the dark jeans over her long legs. She smirked when she spotted Booth wetting his lips as he watched her. "Haven't you had enough for one morning?" she teased.

"I'll never have enough, Bones," he corrected her. He'd chosen his favorite pair from amongst her jeans, but now he was second-guessing the decision, certain that he'd be tormented by them all day while they worked their case. It was too late to argue with her about it though, especially since they'd already been running a little late. So they finished getting ready quickly and rode to the crime scene together.

"Cam sounded strange on the phone," Brennan commented. "Like she was choosing her words very carefully or maybe trying not to laugh at something."

"Yeah, I noticed," he replied. "Probably just because she wasn't expecting me to answer your phone."

"Maybe."

Booth steered the SUV through the crowd of construction and government workers that were surrounding a half-completed condominium. He pulled to a stop and noticed Cam getting out of her own car nearby. Brennan made her way through the structure as a tech led the way to the remains, but Booth hung back slightly and fell into step with Cam.

"Sorry if I interrupted something this morning," she smirked.

"Uh… you didn't," he said awkwardly. He _really_ didn't want to talk about this with Cam.

"Of course I did. I could hear it in your voice. I might as well have walked in on y-"

"Yeah, Cam, I get it," he interrupted her, flushing deeply. She merely grinned at him.

"Aww, you're blushing," she teased him. Booth struggled to keep a straight face as he watched Brennan walking in front of them. His eyes strayed a little too far south, and Cam snickered. "You could at least _try_ not to stare at her ass, Seeley. I mean for Christ's sake, you just-"

"Enough. No one needs to be talking about that, especially not you and especially not right now, so you just... you know… go do whatever it is you're here to do," he stammered. She chuckled and walked away, leaving him to scowl after her. "And don't call me Seeley, _Camille._ "

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The remains had been partially dissolved by chemicals in a bathtub, and Brennan insisted that the entire thing be carted back to the lab quickly. They would be racing the clock to prevent the chemical mixture from compromising the evidence any further. Booth came with her to the lab and made calls from her office to check on things at the Hoover while he waited for an ID.

Brennan and Cam argued a little over the best way to proceed with the evidence recovery, but they eventually reached a tentative accord. They had worked together very little during the last case, primarily because the evidence hadn't really required a pathologist. Cam had interacted with the team in a more supervisory capacity, but there hadn't been any major conflicts between the two women since the Dylan Crane case.

The evidence indicated that the victim had suffered from Osteogenesis Imperfecta, and although there was no official database of patients with the disease, Angela was able to track down a list of local cases. Unfortunately, they were all children, but Brennan suggested that since the disease was hereditary in mild forms such as the one their victim had, it was very possible that he had passed it on. Angela printed two copies of the list, and Booth decided they would split up to save time, each of them covering half of the names.

Booth and Brennan met back at the lab a few hours later, each carrying a photograph of their victim with his family. They were both shocked to realize that the father in each photograph was the same man, but the woman and child in each picture were different. The victim had apparently been leading a double life under two different names. He had lived as Lawrence Turner in Maryland with a wife and daughter, and he had also worked as a commercial electrician by the name of Lawrence Seaver, living in Virginia with a wife and son.

Once they had recovered from the surprise, Booth went to his office to set up meetings with both wives, and Brennan left the lab not long after his departure. She called a cab and found herself looking up at a tall office building a short while later. Brennan drew in a deep breath before she opened the main doors and stepped into the marble-floored lobby.

 _Here we go…_

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Rebecca's eyes narrowed at her office intercom as her assistant announced that her four o'clock appointment had arrived. She didn't remember having scheduled anything for four pm, since she'd been planning to work late. Taking the afternoon off the previous Friday had left her a little behind, and she'd been even more irritated at the prospect of a late night in light of the fact that her visit to Booth's house Friday afternoon had been a waste of time.

"What's the name, Michaela?" she asked in confusion.

"Kathleen Reichs," the woman replied. Rebecca was now even more puzzled but assumed she must have simply forgotten about the appointment. The name _did_ sound vaguely familiar.

"Thanks, show her in, please."

Rebecca looked up from her desk and was alarmed to see Dr. Temperance Brennan striding through her doorway. She wasn't sure whether to be angry or nervous. After all, she had thrown herself at this woman's significant other just three days ago, and in Brennan's own home no less. Still, scheduling an appointment under a fake name just to corner her in her own office was a pretty underhanded thing to do.

"Good afternoon, Rebecca," Brennan greeted her coolly as she took a seat on the opposite side of the desk. Rebecca chewed her lip slightly and decided to proceed with caution.

"Is there something I can do for you, Dr. Brennan?"

"A few things, yes, but for now, you can just listen." As much as Brennan might want to behave like an overpowering alpha female, she knew that actually resorting to physical confrontation would only make matters worse. So she kept her tone even and businesslike as she continued.

"I don't know why you turned Booth down when he asked you to marry him, and I don't particularly care. But you _did_ turn him down. You missed your moment with him, and although I may not subscribe to the theory that there is only _one_ moment in romantic relationships, you have irrevocably surrendered any opportunity to reconcile with Booth. After this conversation, I won't verbally address this issue again, but I feel I should warn you that if you fail to keep your hands to yourself in the future, I won't waste time using words to make my displeasure clear."

Rebecca's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Brennan charged ahead.

"Now that that's out of the way, I'd like to discuss Parker-"

"It's not your place to discuss _anything_ about my son," Rebecca argued.

"I quite agree. This should have been handled between you and Booth, but since you have refused to discuss the matter with him, you get me instead. You don't even need to speak, if you prefer. I believe that in your heart you're a good mother, and you love Parker very much." Brennan's voice softened a little, and Rebecca's features registered her surprise at the unexpected compliment.

"I'm not entirely sure why you think that I would ever try to come between you and your son, but I want to make it very clear that it is not now, nor has it ever been, my intention to replace you as his mother. I love Parker very much, but _you_ are his mother, and nothing will ever change that. I do feel, however, that you tend to forget that you're not his only parent. Booth would do anything for Parker, and when you consistently cancel his time with his son, it leaves Booth feeling as though you believe him to be a bad father. You make excuses about the dangers of his job or the mistakes he's made in the past, but you know as well as I do that Parker couldn't possibly have a _better_ father than Booth.

"He's never asked for more time with him than he's entitled to have, and he doesn't want to take your son away from you. But Parker _needs_ his father. When you repeatedly prevent them from seeing one another, you're not just hurting Booth but Parker as well. Your son deserves to know that his father is a good man and that he will get to spend time with him on a regular basis. He deserves to know that Booth loves him and wants to be there for him. In just the time that Booth and I have been romantically involved, you've cancelled more than half of his scheduled weekends, and though I may not know much about children in general, I know that they need consistency. They thrive on routine, and you've denied him that."

Rebecca listened with pursed lips, her feelings of guilt increasing with every word Brennan spoke. She wanted very badly to despise the woman sitting in front of her, but Brennan was making that difficult. It was clear that she cared about Parker's welfare, and as difficult as it was to see her son growing attached to another maternal figure, she felt a begrudging gratitude that Brennan seemed to be a good person. Rebecca held up a hand to interrupt Brennan a little more politely than she'd done before.

"You… you're not wrong," she admitted quietly. "It's not the first time I've been told that I have a tendency to be a little selfish when it comes to my son." That was certainly true. Several ex-boyfriends, as well as her own mother, had mentioned it more than once. "It's...difficult to watch your child become attached to a step parent. I know Seeley has had the same feelings in regards to men I've dated in the past… But I will admit that you _have_ been a good influence on Parker, especially when it comes to academics," Rebecca conceded.

"I love him very much," Brennan repeated. "And Booth as well. I really wish that everyone could simply focus on what's best for Parker." Rebecca nodded thoughtfully.

"So you don't… you don't think Seeley wants full custody?" she asked nervously.

"I don't believe so. He merely wants the current arrangements to be recognized by the courts and the current schedule to be followed more predictably. Booth understands the need for Parker to be with you the majority of the time, for multiple reasons, and the last thing he wants to do is drag everyone through endless legal proceedings. It wouldn't be good for Parker, and he knows that."

Rebecca sighed deeply, reassured by Brennan's words and feeling even more ashamed of her own behavior.

"I'm...willing to discuss it with him. Perhaps we can all sit down and draw up the paperwork together… I'm also…" Rebecca struggled a little, the words tasting bitter on her tongue, "I apologize for coming on to him the other day. It was inappropriate, and I wasn't thinking clearly. I crossed a line, and I regret it. It won't happen again."

"Thank you," Brennan replied with a stiff nod. Though she might not be as talented as Booth at deciphering tones and facial expressions, she was fairly certain that Rebecca was being sincere. "I'm sure that Booth will be more than willing to discuss things in more detail. Perhaps...you and Parker could come over for dinner later this week," she suggested hesitantly. Brennan didn't particularly want Rebecca in her home again, but a private setting really was necessary in this situation. To her surprise, Rebecca nodded.

"I think that's a great idea," she agreed, smiling a little. "Would Friday be okay? Parker could stay until Sunday…"

"That would be wonderful." Brennan was smiling genuinely as she rose from her seat. "Six o'clock?"

"Sure. See you then."

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 **So this time, we got a small dose of Pops. Next time we'll get one of Parker.**

 **Reviews make me happy! ;) See you Friday.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Happy Friday! (Or whatever day it is where you happen to be.) Lots of reviews last time, thanks so much! Keep 'em coming, I love feedback. :)**

 **A few notes on this one... I really enjoyed writing this chapter for several reasons. I won't spoil anything here, but I will say that the information about parenting time and child support guidelines comes from personal experience and a bit of research on how things work in DC. But mostly personal experience. I have frequently had to go after unpaid child support, defend what was right for my child, and stand before a family court judge without a lawyer multiple times. So I tried to keep this as realistic and in character (at least for Booth) as I possibly could. Rebecca's pettiness would never be enough to take Parker from her, and Booth would never try, at least on those grounds.**

 **K, that's all. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 11

Brennan checked her cell as she made her way out of Rebecca's office building and saw that she'd missed three calls from Booth. He'd also sent a few texts:

 _:Hey, answer your phone. I've got both wives coming to the Hoover tonight._

 _:Everything okay?_

 _:No one at the lab has seen you in an hour, would you PLEASE answer your phone so I know you're not lying dead somewhere?_

The last message had come in just a few minutes ago, and Brennan shook her head as she climbed into a cab and directed the driver to the Hoover Building, pressing the speed dial to call her overprotective partner.

"Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, foregoing his typical greeting.

"I'm _fine_ , Booth. I was just in a meeting; my phone was silenced. You really shouldn't overreact like that. It's not good for your health." She heard him release a gust of air across the mouthpiece, and she pictured him running his hand through his short hair.

"Bones, do I really need to remind you what happened the _last_ time no one at the lab knew where you'd disappeared to?" he asked shakily.

 _Oh… Damn,_ she thought guiltily.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think to check my phone, and the meeting wasn't case related, so I didn't mention it to anyone before I left. I didn't mean to alarm anyone, Booth," she promised.

"I know. It's okay, I just… I was worried about you."

"I'm sorry. I'm on my way to your office," she assured him. They hung up a moment later, and within seconds of her appearance in Booth's doorway, she was swept into a crushing embrace.

She hugged him back tightly, patting and soothing him until he was ready to pull away.

"Sorry for freaking out, I was just-"

"Don't apologize. It's okay." She placed a quick but tender kiss to his lips and turned the conversation to the case. "So both wives are coming in?"

"Yeah, they should be here any minute," he said, checking his watch.

"What's the plan? Are you going to tell them about their husbands or do you think they already know?"

"Well, that's what we're gonna find out."

Brennan was a little surprised he hadn't demanded to know where she'd been, but then, Booth wasn't really that kind of man. The only reason he'd been upset by not knowing where she'd gone was that he cared about her safety. She sincerely hoped he wouldn't be angry with her for taking the initiative with Rebecca.

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Neither Lila Turner nor Gayle Seaver seemed to recognize one another when Booth put them in the same room at the Hoover, and he decided not to reveal the truth of the situation to them just yet. Brennan thought he was simply stalling to avoid an unpleasant discussion, but Booth argued that if either of them was the killer and got spooked before there was enough evidence to hold them, one or both of them might run.

They headed home for the night, and Brennan resolved to go over the evidence in more detail the following day. Unfortunately, the bathtub full of lye had dissolved much of the skeletal evidence, and she wasn't particularly looking forward to working with Cam to analyze the leftover organic matter.

They picked up some Thai on the way home, and once they were sitting down to eat, Brennan worked up the courage to tell him what she'd done.

"I…I made dinner plans for Friday evening. I hope it's okay," she said, looking both nervous and a little excited. Booth raised his brows speculatively and gave her his best charm smile.

"Oh yeah? You takin' me out on a date, Bones?" She laughed a little and shook her head.

"No, um…I invited someone over."

"Who?"

"Rebecca." The smile slid from Booth's face to be replaced by an expression of shock and confusion. _And worry_ , she noted uncomfortably. "That's where I was this afternoon."

"You went to see her? You didn't bring your gun, right?" The expression on her face when he'd told her about Rebecca's behavior was still fresh in his mind.

"No," she replied, smiling again. "I went to her office, and we talked about Parker. And you. She agreed to discuss a formal custody arrangement, and I suggested that she and Parker come over for dinner. They're coming on Friday, and Parker gets to stay until Sunday." She watched him cautiously, biting her lip slightly as she gauged his reaction.

"Seriously? _How…?_ What did you say?" He had dropped his fork to his plate and seemed to have forgotten his meal entirely, but his eyes were bright with astonishment.

"Well… I pointed out that the inconsistency of the current situation is unfair and unhealthy for Parker, and that he deserves to know that his father loves him and wants to be there for him. She asked if you were planning to take her to court for full custody, and I assured her that you merely wanted to get the current schedule in writing and for it to be followed more reliably. I also assured her that it's never been my intention to come between her and Parker."

Booth was stunned. For _five years_ he'd been trying to convince Rebecca to see his point of view, and Brennan had managed it in the space of one afternoon. He still couldn't quite wrap his mind around it.

"And she agreed, just like that? No arguing or swearing or tantrums? She just agreed?"

"Well…once she was assured that neither of us were trying to take Parker from her, she agreed to _discuss_ things as adults. Whether or not she will actually concede to what you want from her still remains to be seen."

Booth huffed an incredulous laugh and stood abruptly, pulling her out of her seat and into his arms. He seized her lips in a kiss that left her breathless and a little dizzy.

" _Thank you,"_ he told her when they'd parted. He held his hand to her cheek and stared back at her in amazement. "I can't even explain… I can't believe you did that for me," he said, his eyes glistening with subdued emotion. She smiled and tightened her arms around his waist.

"I'm pretty sure I've already told you that there isn't _anything_ I wouldn't do for you, Booth." He grinned at her and leaned his forehead to rest against hers. "I'm just glad you're not angry," she confessed in relief. He drew back in surprise.

"Why would I be angry?"

"Well, I wasn't sure if I was overstepping, but since you were already at the point that you were willing to go to court, I figured it couldn't hurt to try."

"I'm glad you did. Honestly, it never occurred to me to ask you, and I didn't think you'd ever want to be in the same room with her anyway, especially after what happened last week."

"Oh," she grinned mischievously, "Yes, that was actually the first thing I addressed." Booth looked simultaneously wary and intrigued.

"I _really_ wish I'd been there to see that."

"Yes, I'm certain you would have enjoyed it. You do like when I behave like a possessive alpha female."

"You didn't actually hurt her, right? Did you flip her over your shoulder and push your boot into her throat until she agreed to behave?" he asked playfully. She rolled her eyes but smiled as they sat back down at the table to finish their food.

"Of course not. I merely informed her that she has already made her decision in regards to you, and…and if she forgets to keep her hands to herself in the future, I won't be using words to convey my displeasure next time."

Booth laughed heartily, easily picturing the shocked expression Rebecca must have had. He gazed at Brennan affectionately and thought for the umpteenth time that he would never stop being amazed by her. She was a constant surprise, in all the best ways.

"She actually did apologize for her actions. And she eventually admitted that I'm a good influence on Parker."

"Holy shit, Bones… I don't know if she's _ever_ apologized to me for _anything_. At least not since we split, so it's been years." Brennan merely smiled, looking exceptionally pleased with herself.

They cleared the table and washed the dishes together, and it wasn't until they were getting ready for bed some time later that he thought of another question.

"How did you get Rebecca to meet you in the first place?" he asked curiously. That devious smile made a reappearance on her gorgeous face, and he couldn't help but return it.

"I scheduled an appointment under a false name," she replied, climbing into bed. He snorted with laughter.

"What name?"

"Kathleen Reichs."

"Nice. Guess she doesn't read your books, huh?"

"Apparently not," she smirked, turning off the lamp and curling up happily against his bare chest. They were silent for a few moments as their hands caressed one another softly.

"I love you, Bones. 'Thank you' doesn't seem like enough…"

"I love you too," she replied, meeting his warm gaze with a contented smile. "I do, perhaps...have an idea of how you could thank me…"

Booth chuckled and flipped her gently onto her back, capturing her lips with his own.

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The rest of the week flew by with surprising speed, and they solved the case of 'Two-Time Larry' by Thursday. Both of the man's wives had known about each other after all, having met quite by accident at playground for differently-abled children. Since both of their children suffered from brittle bone disease, neither had minded driving a little out of their way to find a safe playground. To further complicate matters, the victim had started an affair with yet another woman and had gotten her pregnant as well.

In the end, it was the discovery of a dental crown that led them to the killer. The building supervisor from the construction site, Pete Volero, had confronted the victim about shoddy electrical work, and the argument had turned into a physical confrontation. Larry's death had been accidental, but Volero had panicked and staged it as a suicide. All three women had discovered him a short time later, and they'd put the body in the tub of lye to ensure a valid life insurance claim.

Booth grew more apprehensive about their dinner with Rebecca as the days inched closer to Friday. He knew that simply getting her to agree to talk was huge progress, but now he worried that she might not show up. Or if she did show up, he wondered if she would be reasonable in coming to an agreement.

Brennan had offered to have a lawyer brief Booth on his options, but he declined, stating that he felt well-enough prepared so long as she was there to help him. Rebecca had the skill to put their agreement into a court document, and he trusted Brennan to be able to tell if his ex was trying to slip anything by him. He and Brennan had discussed things in more detail, and he was fairly confident that he understood what would be fair to ask of Rebecca.

Booth had only briefly considered asking for a fifty-fifty arrangement. He knew that if they went to court, there was a reasonable chance a judge might grant him that, but that sort of arrangement really wasn't practical for them. Rebecca lived in a good school district, and Parker definitely loved his school. There was really no reason to uproot him from his routine.

It was also an unavoidable fact that Booth worked long, unpredictable hours. He and Brennan could be called to a crime scene at any time, day or night, weekday or weekend. Having Parker with them during the week could potentially result in a lot of time spent with a babysitter or in a daycare, and Booth felt that his son was better off with his mother at times like that. Rebecca worked long hours as well, but her schedule was more predictable.

Booth had read every word of the District's parenting time guidelines, and he didn't feel that what he wanted was unfair. However, Rebecca's moods were unpredictable; he knew that better than anyone. So he couldn't help but worry that she might refuse to see his point of view when they came face to face.

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Brennan was cooking that evening, opting to keep things simple with a pan of baked spaghetti. Booth assured her that she'd chosen well and paced nervously around the kitchen while he waited for the doorbell to ring. When Brennan almost bumped into him for the third time, she pushed him onto a barstool and told him to stay there. Booth watched her put the baking pan in the oven and walk back to stand between his parted knees.

"Relax. It'll be okay," she soothed, curving her arms around his neck. Booth smiled at her reassurance and kissed her softly, tightening his own arms around her waist.

"I love you, Bones."

"I love you too," she replied, kissing him swiftly and pulling out of his arms as the doorbell rang. Booth jogged to the front door and opened it, grinning as he was immediately tackled by his five-year-old son.

"Holy cow! Have you been eating your vegetables?" Booth joked, staggering dramatically. "When did you get to be so strong?" Parker laughed, hugging his father tightly.

"I'm not stronger than _you_ , Daddy. That's silly."

Booth chuckled and moved aside so that Rebecca could enter. She was smiling at them but looked every bit as uncomfortable as Booth felt.

"Hi, Rebecca," Booth greeted her politely. "Dinner should be almost ready. Would you like a glass of wine or…?"

"Just water, thank you."

Booth nodded and followed his son as he skipped into the kitchen to see Brennan. He grinned when he heard Parker's exultant ' _Bones!'_ and rounded the corner to see them hugging.

"Can you go wash your hands for dinner and then help your dad set the table?" Brennan asked him. Parker agreed happily and left the room. Brennan and Rebecca exchanged greetings, and Booth got started on the drinks. The tension in the room was uncomfortable, but it was soon broken by the reappearance of Parker, who was eager to help carry the plate and forks to the table.

Dinner was equally awkward, but it passed quickly enough. Parker ate exceptionally well but also made an exceptional mess, so Brennan took him into the bathroom to get him cleaned up. Booth began to clear the table and was surprised when Rebecca got up to help.

"Thanks."

She nodded but remained silent, unsure how to proceed.

"I was thinking we could get Parker set up with the Wii while we talk in the kitchen, if that's alright with you?"

"That sounds fine."

"Do you mind if Bones joins us too? She knows a little more than I do about all of this, but I understand if you'd rather it just be you and I…"

"No, that's fine. I think...she's earned the right to at least listen," Rebecca replied, smiling a little reluctantly. "Besides, I owe her. I already apologized to her, but you should know too that I'm sorry for the way I acted last week. It won't happen again."

"Thank you," Booth answered, genuinely surprised by her initiative. His attention was pulled in the direction of his son's voice, and he headed into the living room to get Parker's video game up and running.

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"I really can't believe she just... _agreed_ ," Booth said incredulously, once Rebecca had taken her leave. "I thought for sure I'd have to beg for every bit of it, but she acted like it was all perfectly reasonable."

"That's because it _was_ ," Brennan replied, smoothing her lotion over her slender hands. "She's a lawyer, Booth. She understands how the system works, and she probably knows that you could've taken her to court at any point in the past five years and gotten exactly what you wanted. I expect that she was simply relieved you weren't asking for more, so she agreed to your requests willingly."

Rebecca had consented to formalizing the every-other-weekend schedule and had also agreed to follow the District's guidelines for school-aged children in regards to summer vacation and holidays. Booth would have Parker for a week beginning Christmas Day and ending New Year's Day, and he would get three weeks of time with him every summer. Rebecca had looked uncomfortable at the idea of not seeing her son for three weeks, but Brennan had reminded her that the time didn't necessarily have to be consecutive. While Parker was young, they could break up the time into smaller segments, and when he was old enough, that arrangement could change if he was comfortable with it. Rebecca also agreed to set up a Right of First Refusal provision, by which either parent must offer the other an opportunity to care for Parker if they found themselves in need of child care. It was agreed that Parker would remain in the care of his nanny after school, but if there were an emergency, Booth would be called before anyone else. He agreed to do the same in the likely chance that they would be called to a crime scene during Parker's scheduled time.

They had agreed that Rebecca would maintain primary physical custody, but she and Booth would share joint legal custody. Rebecca had also agreed to calculate child support according to the District's guidelines, and it turned out that Booth had been paying a little more than he should have been. He agreed to lower the amount, but he reassured Rebecca that he wanted to help with the bigger things that would eventually come up: sports fees, braces, a tux for prom, first car, college, etc.

Brennan had smiled at his insistence and wondered what he would think of the fact that she had already begun to tentatively put money aside for Parker's education. It wasn't formally set up as such, mostly because she didn't want to go behind Booth's back about it. Brennan smiled at the relief now so evident in his expression and wondered if now might be a good time to bring it up.

"Still," he continued. "Everything has always been such a _fight_ with her, Bones. I've had to argue for pretty much every second of time with Parker ever since he was born, and now…" He released a long sigh and collapsed onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "I just can't believe I don't have to do that anymore."

"I'm glad it went so well. I know you've been worried about the situation for a long time, and I'm pleased that Rebecca finally decided to do the right thing for Parker."

"Me too," he agreed, rolling over to face her when she turned off the light. "Thank you, Bones. I feel so much… lighter. Like a weight has been lifted that I didn't even realize I was carrying. I feel at peace with the situation for the first time in Parker's life, and I know it wouldn't have happened without your help." He pulled her into his arms and stroked the hair back from her face tenderly.

"You don't need to thank me, Booth. I'm just glad you're not so stressed about it anymore. And I'm glad that Parker will have a more consistent routine. He really needs that."

Booth smiled and shook his head silently, feeling dazed by his own luck to have this incredible woman in his life. Brennan leaned in to kiss him but pulled back too quickly for him to respond the way he wanted.

"There's one other thing, Booth. I think this is probably as good a time to bring it up as any…"

"What?" he asked, wondering why she suddenly looked nervous.

"You mentioned to Rebecca earlier that you wanted to help with Parker's college tuition, and I almost said something then, but I wasn't sure whether or not it would make Rebecca angry. I, um… I don't have anything formally set up yet, because I wanted your approval first, but… I've been putting some money aside for Parker's education."

Booth raised his eyebrows in surprise. That wasn't what he'd been expecting her to say at all. If he was honest with himself, his first gut reaction was one of pride. Parker was his son, and the responsibility of his education should fall on his shoulders, not Brennan's. However, that reaction passed quickly as he realized that she had merely done it out of love for his son. She hadn't gone behind his back to conspire with her accountant and make arrangements for Parker without telling him; she had merely been setting money aside for that purpose should Booth agree to it. He was touched at her thoughtfulness and generosity, and he realized that her revelation really shouldn't surprise him at all. It was typical Bones.

"Wow… I'd say you don't have to do that, but I have a feeling that won't change your mind," he grinned. She smiled back, relieved that she hadn't wounded his pride.

"That's correct. I mean, if you were really that uncomfortable with it, then I'd simply wait and give it to Parker as a gift when he comes of age, but… I'd really like to set up a formal trust fund for him, just in case anything happens to me before then-"

"Hey, shhhh. Don't even put that out there, Bones. Nothing's gonna happen to you. If you want to set something official up, then that's fine, but don't do it out of fear, okay?"

"Booth, I'm not _afraid_ of something happening. It just makes logical sense to be prepared for any outcome. I updated my will earlier this year, but I can add an education fund now that I know you're okay with it. Is _your_ will up to date?"

Booth sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. The Bureau required his will to be reviewed twice a year, but he really didn't want to talk about it.

"Yeah, Bones… It gets reviewed every six months. I made you the trustee at the same time I made you my medical proxy. Can we not talk about it right now? I'll let you read through the whole thing sometime, I promise. For now, I really want to focus on _other_ things," he pled.

She thought about arguing with him but decided to let it go. It wasn't exactly a pleasant thing to discuss, and she didn't want to ruin his good mood. So she smiled and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"I suppose that's agreeable," she teased, pressing her lips to the escalating pulse at his throat. He groaned quietly and moved his hands beneath her shirt to appreciate her satiny skin.

"Mmm… Think you can be quiet enough? Parker's right down the hall."

" _Hey_ , I'm getting better about that," she insisted. He snorted a little.

"Sure you are," he placated, allowing his hand to drift into more intimate territory. "Still...seems like a worthy challenge, and I'm not one to balk at a _challenge_ …"

Brennan grinned in silent agreement. Booth most certainly did _not_ balk.

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They passed an enjoyable weekend with Parker, and when it was time to take him back to Rebecca on Sunday, it was the first time Booth could remember telling his son when he'd see him again without feeling like a liar.

That evening, he turned his attention to a different matter. Brennan was turning thirty the following Tuesday, and Booth called Angela on his way back home after dropping off his son. He had a few ideas, but he thought consulting Brennan's best friend would be a good idea.

"Hey, Agent Studly," the artist greeted him smoothly, skipping the traditional 'Hello.'

"Hey, Angela," Booth replied, rolling his eyes a little at her nickname for him.

"You calling to tell me you're dumping Bren to run away with me?"

"Uh, no. Sorry," he smirked at her teasing.

"Good, cause I'd kick your ass."

"She'd do it first." Angela laughed in response and agreed. "Actually, Ange, I'm calling about Tuesday."

"Oh yeah? Got something special planned?"

"Well, last year no one even told me it was her birthday, so…"

"Hey, don't blame me. She's weird about her birthdays; I've never understood why. I'm sure there's a story there somewhere, but she's never explained it to me. Most people _enjoy_ getting presents and having a fuss made over them."

"Yeah, but that's not really Bones…" He narrowed his eyes a little at Angela's suggestion that there might be more to it than social ineptitude, but he continued, "I'm not planning to embarrass her at work or anything like that."

"But you are planning _something_ , right?"

"Of course. I may need your help to make sure she gets out of the lab at a reasonable time though. No later than six, I'd say."

"Don't worry, I'll kick her out the door on time," Angela chuckled. "What are you planning?"

"I'm gonna cook dinner at home, I think. Some jazz, some dancing…"

"Sounds good so far. Don't forget some good wine," she advised. "And maybe a massage...with a _very_ happy ending." Her tone made the implication perfectly clear.

"That's private, Angela, how about you just stick to a wine recommendation," he said sternly. In truth, he'd already planned a massage, and he knew full well how it would end.

"Well what are you cooking?"

"She's been on a mushroom kick lately, so I was thinking mushroom risotto...maybe that chickpea salad she likes."

"Nice. What are _you_ going to eat?" she laughed, impressed by his menu choices.

"I'll live without meat for one meal, Ange. I'm not so good at pairing wine though…"

"Go with a good pinot or cabernet sauvignon."

"Thanks. Anything else you can think of?"

"Gift?"

"I've got that covered."

"And you're not gonna tell me, right?"

"Nah, she can show you on Wednesday." It wasn't that Booth minded her knowing, but he _did_ mind her spoiling the surprise.

"Alright, then. It sounds like you've got it all under control, Casanova."

"Great. Thanks, Ange. I owe you one," he said, expecting a witty retort.

"No. You're good to her. That's all I want from you."

"Thanks," he replied sincerely with a wide smile she couldn't see. They said goodbye, and Booth mulled over his plans again, hoping Brennan would be okay with everything. He hadn't really given it much thought last year until he realized it had passed without mention. He hadn't even known the exact date until they'd gotten together, and he'd been a little disappointed that he'd missed the opportunity to do something for her. It had fallen between their second and third cases as partners, and she'd never brought it up.

To be fair, his birthday had passed in much the same way last November. Still, he couldn't help but wonder at Angela's comment that Brennan was 'weird about her birthdays.' Considering her past, there could be any number of reasons for her discomfort, and Booth wasn't entirely sure he wanted the full story.

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The next evening, Brennan came home with dinner, and they traded details from their workdays as they ate. They didn't have an active case at the moment, but they did have a rather daunting stack of paperwork to complete from their last one.

Booth smiled as she described an argument between Zack and Hodgins, which had resulted in the escape of several of Zack's beetles. Fortunately, they'd all been recovered quickly, but Cam had apparently reacted very poorly, to the mutual amusement of the rest of the team. He felt only mild empathy for his friend; she'd taken the job, after all.

They finished their meal and cleared enough room to start their paperwork, but Booth stopped her before she could do more than bring the stack to the coffee table.

"Hey, can I talk to you about something before we get started?"

"Of course. Is something wrong?" she asked in concern. His expression was very serious, and the abrupt change in his demeanor caught her off guard.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just…wanted to ask you something." Brennan nodded and waited patiently for him to continue. "I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but I want to make sure I don't unintentionally screw something up… Tomorrow's your birthday." Her expression shifted with comprehension, but she didn't look angry with him for bringing it up. "I have some things planned, and you won't talk me out of it, so don't bother trying. But...if you have a particular reason for not celebrating your birthday, I'd like to know. I don't want to inadvertently bring up bad memories…"

Brennan gave him her trademark crooked smile and tilted her head to the side a little. She understood his logic and wasn't all that surprised he'd asked. If anything, she was surprised he hadn't asked before now.

"Nothing you could do would bring up bad memories, Booth. I find that I'm actually looking forward to whatever you've planned."

"Well…great," he faltered, a little confused. "Angela says you're 'weird' about your birthdays, so I figured there was something I didn't know."

"Yes…" She hesitated, wondering if it was really necessary that he hear another rotten foster care story. As far as she was concerned, it was in the past. She hadn't _celebrated_ a birthday since she'd turned fifteen, but her life was different now. Booth had seen to that, and she knew that birthdays would be no exception.

"It's not a nice story, Booth," she confided, cringing a little.

"I figured. I'm still willing to hear it," he assured her, bracing himself mentally. She nodded and gathered her thoughts briefly.

"I turned sixteen a couple of weeks after being placed with the-" She stopped herself, giving him a serious look. "If I say a name, are you planning to hunt them down?" She raised her brows when she realized he was actually considering his answer.

"As much as I might like to, I know you don't want that. So, no. I won't." Booth pursed his lips but waited for her to continue.

"Thank you. Anyway, I was placed with the Campbells a couple of weeks before my sixteenth birthday. They were the ones who eventually ended up locking me in the trunk, but that was a couple months later. At first, they didn't seem all that bad. I'd run away from the last place because no one believed me about the things I reported, and the Campbells seemed okay at first. They had a lot of rules, but rules didn't bother me… That was the fourth family I'd been placed with, so I knew well enough to keep my head down, and I didn't say anything about my birthday. But...one of their rules was that we weren't permitted to give their phone number to friends or...well, anyone. So when Russ called that year…"

"Oh, God." Booth's face was ashen, trying not to picture the scene in his mind.

"Yes. He'd left a message on the machine while everyone was at work or school, and the Campbells thought I'd given the phone number to someone they didn't know. He only gave his name; he didn't say he was my brother. I tried to explain that, but it didn't matter." She stopped there, deciding not to go into detail about the consequences of that phone call. He didn't need to hear it.

"So is that why you never took his calls even after that?"

"Maybe. I think I was mostly just angry with him for leaving. But that incident certainly didn't help." She watched his stony features become gradually softer until there was only remorse and a hint of anger.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry you went through that."

"Thank you. But it's in the past, and I've moved on from it. I don't mind celebrating my birthday this year. I hope you don't mind celebrating yours either, because I wasn't the only one who didn't share it until after it had already passed last year," she admonished him. He smiled genuinely at her scolding.

"Well, there was a lot going on at the time. We had the Charlie Sanders case, a formal banquet for the Jeffersonian, a stalker to deal with, and of course, my personal favorite-my partner and her best friend starting a fight in a dance club and getting high on meth."

Brennan slapped his arm playfully but couldn't contain a giggle at the memory. Booth grinned at her indulgently and leaned in to kiss her.

"Getting you out of your clothes that night was rough," he complained, allowing his gaze to drop to her cleavage for a moment.

"You don't seem to have any trouble now," she pointed out. He growled slightly and tried to pull himself together.

"Come on, let's get started on this mess. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go to bed."

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Although they finished their paperwork in record time, Booth was impatient. It didn't help that Brennan was doing just about everything she could to get him wound up. Subtle touching, innocently providing rather spectacular views down her shirt, speaking in her low, sultry voice. By the time they signed the last document, he was very nearly ready to throw her over his shoulder and cart her up the stairs.

"You know, I've realized something about you," he mumbled against her lips once they'd reached the top of the stairs. She kissed him deeply and whipped his shirt off, tossing it to the floor.

"What's that?"

"All those times..." he pulled her shirt off without bothering to undo the buttons, "we did paperwork in your office..." her hands fumbled with his cocky belt buckle, "or one of our apartments…" he unclasped her bra with a skillful twist of his fingers, " _You_ were a tease," he accused playfully.

She grinned deviously at him and pushed his pants to the floor, not attempting to deny it. Booth lifted her slightly and half-carried her to the bed, crushing her lips beneath his. He peeled her jeans from her long, shapely legs and knelt between them.

He gave her no warning but swooped down quickly to run his tongue against the entire length of her cleft. She cried out in shock at the unexpected contact, and he smiled victoriously before burying his tongue between her folds. Brennan's hips moved involuntarily, pushing his tongue deeper, and she moaned appreciatively.

Booth rested completely on his stomach with a shoulder beneath each of her legs, stretching his arms upward to place a hand over each of her breasts. His fingers teased her nipples, pinching lightly, and the pace of her hips increased. He sensed she was close to a release and changed tactics slightly. He captured her clit and sucked the tender flesh completely into his mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue against it.

Her orgasm rocked through her body with the intensity of an earthquake, and the sound of his name on her lips was nearly a sob of pleasure. His ministrations slowed gradually, but it was several long moments before he finally lifted his mouth to smile at her. Booth pressed a hot kiss to her inner thigh before moving upward.

She was still trembling when he entered her, and this time he cried out with her. Brennan grasped his hips urgently and pulled him deeper, meeting every thrust with her own hips. Their rhythm increased steadily until they were both gasping and clutching one another tightly.

"Come with me, Booth. Right… _now!_ "

They shattered as one, clinging desperately to each other as their pleasure overtook them. The exquisite spasms tapered slowly, and Booth kissed her tenderly until the last of the tremors had gone.

Booth glanced at the clock and smiled back at her.

"What?"

"It's past midnight," he explained. "Happy Birthday."

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 **Chapter 12 will be completely AU and will focus on Brennan's birthday. Since the show has never given us a Brennan birthday episode (which really is ridiculous after 11 years), I used Emily Deschanel's birthday. Approximately, at least. Her bday is Oct 11, if you're interested.**

 **See you Sunday!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Even though it's Sunday, I feel compelled to warn you - this is chapter is NOT safe for work. It's also a couple thousand words shorter than usual, but it was a natural place to break, and I don't think you'll mind the shorter chapter at all once you read it. (Really the M rating should be enough of a NSFW warning, but I've been told that maybe I should add an extra one.)**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 12

Booth woke before their alarm went off on Tuesday morning, and he adjusted his position cautiously to get a better look at the woman still asleep in his arms. His eyes traced the perfect line of her jaw, the gentle curve of her full lips, and the crescent shape of her dark lashes as they rested against her cheeks. Watching Brennan sleep was something of a habit for him, and no amount of scolding she could do would ever change that.

As he continued to examine her, he wondered idly how many hours-or days or _weeks_ -he'd spent simply watching her. She had fascinated him from the very first time he'd seen her. Booth had watched her stare at bones for hours, always so calm and patient. She had the ability to maintain focus in much the same way he had been trained to do in the military. While he observed details from his environment or the people around him, she observed evidence.

As they'd grown closer and become intimate, he'd watched her in a variety of other ways as well. Crouched near the ground at a crime scene, clicking away at her laptop, dancing in his arms as he held her close, bickering with fire in her eyes, laughing with his son, coming apart in his arms… There were the domestic things too; things he'd never paid attention to with other women he'd dated. Washing her hair in the shower, selecting the jewelry she wore each day, taste-testing their dinner as she cooked.

Booth had memorized the way she looked while she did all of those things, but he found her every bit as captivating while she slept. Her guard came down completely as she slumbered, and the utter peace and serenity in her beautiful features was almost intoxicating to behold. There was no pointed crease between her brows, no anxious lip-biting, no disapproving scrunch of her nose. When she slept, Booth felt he was free to look-really _look_ -at her without having to explain his motives or his observations. He could simply enjoy her.

The feel of her in his arms as she slept was something to which he'd quickly become addicted. He wasn't sure if he would even be able to sleep a full night _without_ her at this point. The sweet weight of her against his chest anchored him as nothing else could.

She was his home.

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Brennan opened her eyes somewhat experimentally, having already sensed that she wasn't the first to wake. She scowled slightly, seeing Booth smiling shamelessly back at her.

"Creep," she joked, unable to keep her lips from curving upward.

"Hypocrite," he countered. Booth had caught her watching him sleep on numerous occasions. She grinned at him a little wider and tilted her chin upward to brush her lip softly across his. What started as a gentle kiss escalated quickly until they were both desperate for oxygen.

"Are we actually awake before the alarm?" she asked, turning her head to check the time.

"We are. I was thinking that you could choose which you'd like to have more: a home-cooked birthday breakfast or…a shared shower." He smirked mischievously as he spoke the last two words, and Brennan pretended to consider it carefully.

"Well… you know I'm not big on breakfast…"

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"Happy Birthday, Sweetie!"

Angela greeted her cheerfully but also a little warily. In Angela's experience, Brennan typically wanted to be left alone on her birthday, and she'd never been one to mince words about it. Angela was pleasantly surprised, however, when Brennan returned her greeting with not only a 'thank you' but a smile as well. _Wow,_ Angela mused. _Booth is good_.

"Thanks, Ange."

"You're welcome. You're looking very… I don't know, actually. I'd say you're looking well-rested, but that's not really true. You and Studly have a late night last night?"

"And an early morning," Brennan admitted, looking pleased. Angela laughed in amazement at her friend's uncharacteristic openness.

"Well, don't work yourself too hard today, Bren. I have a feeling you're going to need your energy tonight too."

Brennan quirked a brow in her direction, but Angela merely shrugged and headed back to her office. It didn't occur to her that Angela might actually know something Brennan didn't. It was more likely that Angela had simply been making assumptions. Not five seconds after she'd left, Angela was back in her office doorway again.

"I forgot to warn you: I'm taking you out for lunch today. No arguments, no whining, no locking yourself in Limbo."

"Okay."

" _Okay?"_ Angela echoed incredulously. "Seriously, it's that easy?"

"Yes," Brennan replied simply. They stared at each other awkwardly for another moment before Brennan spoke again, "Did you need anything else, or…?"

Angela shook her head and mumbled something incoherent as she walked away. Brennan thought she heard the words 'body snatchers,' but she knew that couldn't have been right…

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Brennan spent the majority of her lunch with Angela dodging the artist's questions about her sex life and listening to her talk about Hodgins. She'd known that the two had grown closer lately, especially since Booth had clarified that their odd social interactions had been flirting. That still confused her a little, but Brennan trusted his judgment.

Angela didn't seem to know what she wanted from the situation with Hodgins. She seemed torn between a genuine affection for the man and a desire to maintain her independence.

"Ange, a relationship will only stifle your independence if you allow it to do so. Hodgins doesn't seem like the overbearing type… Though I could be wrong; I'm not very good at reading people."

"Wow. Well, I guess I agree with you to an extent. I don't really know if Hodgins would be overbearing in a relationship or not, but… Don't you feel that Booth is a little overbearing at times? To be honest, I'm surprised you put up with his overprotectiveness all the time. Don't get me wrong; I think it's sweet and romantic, and you guys are perfect together. I guess I just wouldn't have expected you with someone like that when we first met."

Brennan pursed her lips and considered her answer. She understood what Angela was saying and wasn't offended by the question, but talking about feelings wasn't her forte.

"Booth _can_ be overprotective at times, yes. Though I wouldn't go so far as to call him overbearing. And even though it gets on my nerves now and then, I've learned to let most of it go, because… because I feel the same way about him. I worry about him in the field, I worry if he's in pain from old injuries, I worry if he's upset or stressed about something…" Brennan trailed off, shaking her head a little. "I worry about him _all the time_. So I would be a hypocrite to pass judgment for being overprotective." Brennan paused only a moment before adding, "He's not overbearing though. He never makes me feel confined or smothered-in the figurative sense."

Angela listened to her friend's speech with a gentle smile playing about her lips, and she wondered if Brennan realized how very much she'd changed since they'd met at that art exhibit more than two years ago. If anyone had asked her at the time, she would have thought Brennan to be the least likely source of good relationship advice.

"Not everyone gets what you and Booth have, Bren." Brennan nodded seriously. She knew how lucky she was.

She only hoped that Angela could open her heart to that kind of love as well.

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Not long after Brennan returned from lunch, her analysis of a Civil War era John Doe was interrupted by the sound of her phone ringing from the pocket of her lab coat. She glanced at the caller ID and took a breath before answering.

"Brennan."

"Glad to see you're taking my calls this year," Russ joked, sounding a little relieved. They had come a long way in their efforts to patch things up, but the occasional awkwardness still lingered.

"Hi, Russ."

"Happy Birthday, Tempe."

"Thank you." Brennan tried not to sound as uncomfortable as she really was and focused on his next words.

"So is Booth taking you out tonight or anything?"

"Well, I don't know all of the details," she said, distractedly studying a fragment of manubrium, "but I believe we're staying _in_ and doing something which requires a special 'birthday suit.'"

"Oh God, Tempe. I did _not_ need to know that," Russ sputtered in disgust.

Brennan hadn't understood what Booth had meant by that comment when she'd left the house that morning. She was atypically wearing a dress, at his suggestion, and he'd assured her that she'd be in her 'birthday suit' before the night was over.

"Why? I didn't know what he meant, but-"

"Just forget it. I'm _not_ talking about this with you. Or anyone. Ever."

"Okay," she replied, bewildered. She changed the subject to ask about Amy and the girls, and they spoke for another few minutes about the most recent round of testing that had been scheduled for Hayley's breathing trouble. He wished her a Happy Birthday once more before they hung up, and Brennan couldn't help but stare at the phone for a moment after the call had ended.

 _Perhaps I should ask Angela what a 'birthday suit' is…_

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Booth had taken the afternoon off to come home and get started on Brennan's birthday dinner. He'd become fairly adept at cooking vegetarian, particularly since they'd moved in together officially, but he hadn't made this particular meal before. He'd wanted to give himself a little extra time in case he made some sort of rookie mistake, like say, catching the kitchen on fire. He had no idea why he felt nervous about the evening, especially since they were just staying in, and there were only so many things that could really go wrong.

He supposed it was the fact that, even after being together over ten months, birthdays were still a new milestone for them. Booth hoped that this was the first of very many birthday dinners he would cook for her, and his mind wandered idly to picture what the rest of her birthdays might look like. Perhaps in a few years they would be sitting down to dinner and celebrating her birthday as a family, with Parker and a child of their own. Perhaps someday he might be able to give her a birthday card specifically addressed to a _wife_ …

Booth shook his head and refocused his attention on dinner. Being Brennan's husband was a wonderful thought, but he knew the score. They were committed to one another already, even without the rings and legal status. He harbored no doubts that they were both in this for keeps, and if the life she wanted with him didn't include marriage, then he was fine with that. He'd told her as much when they decided to move in together-the last thing he would ever ask her to do is change herself for him.

Booth texted Angela to remind her to get Brennan to leave work, whether she had to push, pull, or bribe her, and he was pleased when she responded that his girlfriend had in fact already left of her own free will. _Progress_ , Booth thought, giving himself an imaginary pat on the back.

When Brennan arrived, she was immediately intrigued by the aroma wafting from the kitchen as well as the soft jazz music playing in the living room. She smiled as she hung up her bag and jacket.

"Hey, baby. Happy Birthday." He greeted her with a smile, a kiss, and a glass of wine.

"Thank you. Dinner smells wonderful," she commended him, trying not to sound surprised. She knew that Booth could cook, but he typically preferred his meat.

"Thank you. Mushroom risotto and chickpea salad, and something extra sinful for dessert," he winked, thinking of the five-layer chocolate cake he'd stashed in the refrigerator.

"Mmm," she mused, sipping her wine before placing the glass on the counter and wrapping her arms around his waist. "Are _you_ the dessert? Because while I don't agree with the idea of sin, I do believe you would fit the traditional definition."

Booth grinned and captured her lips in another kiss. It quickly deepened as their lips parted and tongues mated almost lazily. After what seemed like an eternity, Booth lifted his head to smile into her gorgeous blue eyes.

"Did you have a good day?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes. I followed your advice and allowed Angela to take me out for lunch today. And I spoke to Russ." Actually, his advice had been to 'let people be nice to her today.' As a result, she'd spent a good part of it reassuring people that nothing was wrong with her.

"That's great, Bones."

As they sat down to their meal, Brennan answered his questions about her lunch with Angela, and Booth smiled at the insights she had shared with the artist. Though it had never been Booth's intention to change her, there was no doubt that she most certainly _had_ changed. But no matter how much she had evolved, all of the things he loved most about her had remained the same. She was still his Bones.

Almost as though she could hear his thoughts, she confirmed them with her next story about Russ's phone call. Booth inhaled his wine painfully and did his best not to spit it across the table at her.

"You _told_ him about that? Oh, Bones…"

"Well, I had no idea what it meant, Booth. It was the only hint you'd given me about this evening, and he asked about our plans, so…" She shrugged with a hint of a smile.

She'd asked Angela what Booth had meant with his 'birthday suit' comment, and Brennan had known immediately from the salacious grin that had stretched across her friend's face that it was mostly likely _not_ something she should have shared with her brother. However, she'd never been one to be ashamed of her sexuality, and in the end she found the whole thing rather humorous.

"Don't worry, Angela explained it. Rather eagerly, I might add."

Booth cringed and felt his face growing a little hot, reminding himself that he did actually love her social awkwardness and occasional incognizance. He just preferred to be the one to educate her, when possible.

"Alright, well… just remind me to avoid Russ for a while, huh? We shouldn't have to see him at least until the holidays, right?"

"I assume so."

They continued to talk for more than a half hour after they'd finished their meals, both unaware of the passing time. When Booth finally glanced at a clock, he was surprised to see that it was already nearly eight. They had a habit of letting time get away from them when they were alone together, though that was nothing new. Even in the beginning, their talks over takeout or paperwork had had a tendency to last long into the night.

"Hey, why don't I get this cleaned up, and you go wait for me in the living room," he suggested.

"I can help. You cooked; I can help clean."

"Nope, it's your birthday. I'm just gonna tidy up for now anyway. The dishes can wait till tomorrow, so _you_ ," he bent to kiss her softly, "go sit in there and wait for your present."

"Booth, the dinner is the present. It was delicious." She followed him into the kitchen in spite of his instructions.

"No, the dinner was _part_ of your present. Now go," he ordered her with a playful slap to her rear. She shot him a mocking glare but left the kitchen.

Booth joined her on the couch after he'd grabbed her gift from its hiding place.

"Okay, so if you don't like this, that's perfectly alright. You're not the easiest person to shop for." She smiled indulgently and simply nodded, accepting the small, rectangular box he handed her and opening it with interest.

Brennan's mouth fell open slightly as she realized exactly what she was looking at.

"Booth," she breathed, a delighted smile transforming her features. "It's perfect. Do _you_ know what this is?" she asked, slightly incredulous.

"I'm told that it's a traditional necklace from Nepal and that the turquoise and coral represent...love, peace, and long life," he recited.

Brennan's crystalline eyes were wide with astonishment, and she nodded in approval before looking down at the necklace again. The silver chain was simple, but the silver pendant was intricately formed into a symmetrical design and set with two small stones. The smaller coral rested above a slightly larger turquoise stone.

Brennan loved it instantly, not only because it was absolutely something she would've chosen for herself, but also because of the symbolism behind it. Booth had obviously researched traditional jewelry before making the selection, and his thoughtfulness made it even more special.

"Thank you, Booth. I love it. It's _perfect_." Her eyes gleamed slightly, but she blinked the emotion away and removed the necklace from the box. She passed it to him before removing the necklace she was already wearing. "Will you put it on?"

Booth smiled and nodded, relieved that he'd gotten it right, and he listened as she launched into a detailed anthropological history of Nepalese artisans, Tibetan influences, and historical events that had shaped their traditions for jewelry. He'd known that Nepal was one of the places she'd traveled as a student, so when he'd gotten the idea to look into tribal or traditional jewelry, the necklace had seemed like a good choice. It was similar in style to several others that she owned, but she didn't have anything quite like this.

He fastened the delicate catch behind her neck and placed a kiss upon the soft skin there before she let her hair fall back to her shoulders. Her slender fingers touched the pendant carefully for just a moment before she pulled him into a deep kiss. When they began to feel slightly light-headed, they separated reluctantly, and Booth stood abruptly.

"Dance with me?" he asked, extending a hand toward her. Brennan considered reminding him what had happened the last time they'd danced but thought better of it. Now wasn't the time for painful memories.

She took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet, following him into the open center of the room. Brennan wrapped one arm around his neck, and he took her other hand in his, pressing it to his lips before holding it against his heart.

They fell silent for a long while as they swayed in slow circles to the smooth jazz emanating from the stereo. Booth pressed the occasional kiss to her temple, forehead, cheek, lips, and fingertips. Brennan found herself feeling more than a little awed at the stark contrast between this birthday and the fourteen others she had experienced since her parents had disappeared.

For starters, she wasn't sure that she had ever felt so loved on _any_ birthday, even before her parents had left. Yes, she'd known her parents loved her, but this was different. Booth cherished her as though she were the most valuable, most important part of his life. He accepted every part of her without asking for more or asking her to change. The strength of his love for her was staggering, and at times like this, she quite literally felt weak in the knees. She was completely overwhelmed by the amount of thought he had put into simply making sure she had a good birthday.

"I love you, Booth," she whispered fervently. He held her tighter and buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply.

"I love you too, Bones. I'm so lucky to have you."

Brennan smiled and shook her head a little at the way his words so often echoed her thoughts, but she didn't argue with him.

In this instance, they were _both_ right.

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"You know, this actually gives me a good idea for _your_ birthday gift," Brennan mused as she leaned back against him in the large bathtub. The jets swirled the water around them soothingly, and Brennan couldn't help but notice the way Booth never removed his feet from in front of them for more than a few seconds at a time.

"Oh really? And what might that be?" he smirked, running his hands seductively over her abdomen and up to cup her breasts. He trailed a line of sweet kisses along her jaw and watched her chest rise up and down at an increasing rate.

"I'm not going to tell you right now, obviously. Waiting another month won't kill you." Brennan continued to recline against his chest with her eyes closed, and she moaned into the steamy air when his fingertips teased her nipples slowly.

"I don't know… it might," he whispered, rolling the rosy tips between his fingers.

 _What was he talking about?_ she wondered distractedly. She'd lost all track of the conversation, and her focus was consumed entirely by the feel of his slick skin against hers. Brennan arched her back, pushing her breasts against his hands, and her own hand moved intently between their bodies to grasp his rigid length.

Booth groaned and fastened his mouth to her neck in response, knowing full well that he was leaving a mark just below her ear. He opened his eyes to watch her body writhing deliciously against his own, the hot water splashing slightly around her curves.

 _God, she's beautiful_ , he thought, almost weeping at the knowledge that she was _his_. He lowered one hand to her center and stroked her skillfully beneath the water. Her hips bucked almost violently against his hand as she moaned with longing.

"Booth…"

"Hmmm?"

"I need you. Inside… _please_."

He smiled and obligingly plunged two fingers into her heat, and although she cried out softly, it hadn't been what she'd meant. Brennan braced her arms against the sides of the tub and raised her body slowly until their cores were aligned. Booth gasped as she reached between her own legs to close her fingers around him and guide him to entrance.

He withdrew his fingers quickly and thrust upward to join his body with hers. Brennan shuddered in his arms, and they began to move in a slow, sensual rhythm that had him gripping her hips tightly in an effort to hold back. The penetration was shallow, but the view from over her shoulder was quite possible the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. He watched as Brennan's hand drifted lower to press against the exact point of their connection, teasing her clit slightly with her palm, and he suddenly recalled the reason he'd been so keen to get her in the tub in the first place.

Booth carefully scooted them toward the foot of the tub, only stopping when he was forced to lift their legs slightly out of the water to rest against the enclosure and side of the tub. Brennan was so lost in her own pleasure that she didn't realize they'd moved until she felt the change in temperature as the air hit her legs.

"What are you-"

"Just trust me," he begged, angling her body carefully so that the strong jet of water struck her clit.

" _Oh my God!"_ she shouted, her voice echoing in the tiled enclosure. The sensation was unexpected, and Brennan was beyond coherent thought in a matter of seconds as the stream of water pounded against her sensitive flesh. Booth had never seen her quite so overtaken, and he thought for a moment she might actually hyperventilate. He pressed his lips to her slick skin once more, hoping to anchor her a little, but he kept her hips firmly in place as he continued to move within her.

"Booth!" she screamed as her orgasm ripped savagely through her, causing her entire body to convulse rhythmically in his arms. Her climax triggered his own release, and he shouted involuntarily as he came hard within her. Booth moved her away from the jet of water and back to their previous position in the tub, slipping out of her carefully. Brennan rolled to her side and curled against his chest, still gasping for air.

It was several minutes before either of them were composed enough to speak, and even then, the words came out between heavy breaths.

"Wow," she panted, still dazed.

"Yeah… That was…"

" _Wow."_

"Pretty much," he agreed.

Booth punched the button to turn off the jets, and they lounged together until the water began to grow tepid. He nudged Brennan gently, realizing she had nearly dozed off against him, and he resisted the urge to say out loud how adorable she was. He knew full well what her response would be, and he didn't feel like bickering about it at the moment.

Booth helped her out of the tub and into bed, drying their bodies thoroughly but not bothering with pajamas. Brennan draped her long limbs over him, and he arranged her damp hair carefully on her pillow so that it would dry without chilling her.

"Thank you," she murmured, placing a sleepy kiss against his lips.

"You're welcome, Bones. Happy Birthday."

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 **My face is hot. How 'bout yours? :)**

 **Don't be shy, tell me what you think!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for all of the reviews and feedback! :) Hope you like this chapter. I'm sure it's probably not what you're expecting, but I just couldn't resist.**

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Chapter 13

Over the course of the next few weeks, Booth and Brennan got Parker's custody paperwork finalized by the court and managed to solve a new case as well. The crime scene had been a blackened hotel suite in which a bomb had been detonated, killing five people. In the course of their investigation, they discovered ties to a Colombian drug cartel, and a State Department worker named Alex Radziwill had helped them to navigate the murky waters of diplomatic immunity.

Once the case was closed, the couple shifted their focus to preparations for Halloween. The holiday fell on a Tuesday that year, and Booth was scheduled to have Parker the weekend before. As excited as he was about getting to take his son trick-or-treating, something Rebecca hadn't permitted him to do in the past, he was slightly more concerned about the news Brennan gave him as they perused the costume aisles of a local specialty store.

"You should pick out something for yourself too, Booth."

"Why? It was hard enough to find a Cars-related costume for Parker that doesn't look completely ridiculous. You really think he's gonna want me to dress up too?"

"No, I meant that you'll need something for the Jeffersonian's Halloween Party. Attendance is compulsory, as are costumes. Since you were required to go to the fundraising gala last year, I assume you'll be expected to attend the party this year. It's an annual thing; there's no getting out of it."

"Whoa, wait a minute, Bones… If it's annual, why didn't I have to go last year? Why didn't you go?"

"It was canceled last year," Brennan answered with a bit of a smirk. "Someone sabotaged the venue at the last minute with a combustive mixture of potassium chlorate, sucrose, and sodium bicarbonate."

" _Combustive?"_ he echoed, looking alarmed.

"It was a smoke bomb," she snickered. "Or rather… quite a few of them rigged to ignite at different intervals. I heard it took hours to remove them all."

"Uh huh… And judging by the look on your face, you know exactly who the saboteur was." Booth didn't bother to contain his grin, and her own sly smile was answer enough.

"Who _they were_ , you mean. And yes, I was privy to that knowledge."

"Hmmm. And _why_ do we have to go this year? I mean, couldn't the Squint Twins come up with a similar...uh...solution?"

"I'm sure they'll give it their best effort, but security has been increased this year," she chuckled. "Cam says that if she has to go, everyone does."

"And it's going to be nothing but grownups wearing costumes?" he asked, cringing at the mental picture. Brennan nodded. "Geez, Bones, why don't they just send everyone to ComicCon? It's going to look pretty much the same."

"I don't know what that means."

"Nothing… I guess I need a costume then," he sighed, paying a bit more attention to the rows of bagged costumes on the wall in front of them. "Hey, what are _you_ going as?"

"The same thing as every year," she answered distractedly, reaching toward a particular costume. "What about this?" she smirked. Booth raised his brows at the Superman costume she held.

"Eh… I don't know, Bones. I mean... _tights_ , really?"

Brennan shrugged, thinking maybe she would come back to pick up the costume another time. _He could always wear it around the house…_

"I could just wear one of my suits with a pair of aviators," he suggested. "You know, Men in Black style."

"How would that be all that different from your usual wardrobe?"

"Well, that's the point," he grumbled. "At least I'd be comfortable."

"I thought the point of a costume was to pretend to be someone you're not."

"Yeah, I guess… I don't know, Bones," he shrugged, looking helplessly at the dozens of adult male-sized costumes. "Grown men aren't supposed to do this kind of stuff." Brennan snorted a little but continued to think about his options.

"Well… Instead of dressing the way _you_ usually dress for work, what about dressing the way _I_ dress for work?"

"I'm not wearing heels, Bones."

"No," she laughed, "I mean you could wear a labcoat."

"Be a _squint_ for Halloween?" She nodded and watched his expression brighten as he considered it. "Yeah, I like it… And it won't be too uncomfortable, right? I mean, you wear one every day. Think you can get one that'll fit me?"

"I'm sure I can," she smiled, liking the idea of Booth in a labcoat.

 _Maybe I'll make sure that comes home too…_

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Booth sighed wearily as he listened to his girlfriend lecture him and his son about the dangers of excess sugar. He knew she meant well, but Parker was looking a bit worried that he might not be permitted to eat the candy he'd collected while trick-or-treating. Booth gave him a reassuring smile.

"Come on, Bones, it's not like I'm gonna let the kid eat all of it at once. Besides, didn't you ever go trick-or-treating as a kid?" he asked, a little concerned that the answer might be no.

"I do remember dressing up for Halloween, so I suppose we must have followed the modern custom of blackmailing strangers for sweets, but I don't remember ever having _that_ amount of candy in the house," she said, looking at Parker's candy pile with a slightly disturbed expression.

"Bones, we didn't _blackmail_ anyone for candy," he insisted, trying not to laugh at her description.

"Of course we did. Or rather, Parker did. The phrase is 'trick or treat,' which implies that if the person who answers the door doesn't surrender a treat of some sort, the child will then pull some manner of prank upon them. How is that _not_ blackmail?"

Booth scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to make sense of the argument, but before he could return fire, Parker spoke up from his position on the floor.

"What's blackmail?"

"Nothing, Parker. Tell you what, pick two pieces of candy, and then go change into your pajamas, okay?" His son grinned excitedly and studied his candy pile carefully to make his selection. Booth had already checked each piece carefully and deemed them all safe to eat, shaking his head at the uncomfortable thought that such a thing was even necessary.

Brennan decided not to point out that candy right before bed would likely hinder Parker's ability to achieve restful sleep, and instead, she wandered into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. Booth joined her a short while later and found her sipping her wine and sorting through a stack of mail.

"He's in bed, but he's reading for a little while. I figure that should wind him down," he announced, leaning his head down for a gentle kiss. Brennan smiled in approval of that plan and took another sip of her wine before placing it on the counter and turning to wrap her arms around Booth's waist.

"Guess that means you're not mad," he grinned, feeling her hands slip beneath his shirt to caress his back.

"Of course not," she replied, looking confused. "Why would I be angry?"

"I don't know… Parker eating candy before bed, I guess. You disappeared into the kitchen, and now you're drinking," he smirked.

"Oh. No, I wasn't angry. It's just been a long night. Would you like a beer, or would you prefer to wait until after Parker's asleep?"

"I'll wait. He's exhausted, so I'm sure he'll crash pretty soon," he replied, hugging her closer. "Thanks for coming out with us tonight, Bones. I know trick-or-treating probably isn't your thing, but he really wanted you to come along."

"I had fun, Booth. I always enjoy spending time with Parker. Even if it _is_ spent blackmailing strangers for candy," she said, grinning mischievously. He chuckled and kissed her soundly.

"Well, if anyone can teach Parker how to blackmail, it's _you_."

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"We probably could've just gotten dressed at the lab, you know," Booth called out, raising his voice so that she could hear him on the other side of the bathroom door. He tamed his hair into a smoother style than he usually preferred and buttoned the blue Medico-Legal labcoat she'd brought home the day before. He was pleased to see that it fit his broad shoulders rather well, and he wondered idly who had originally worn it.

"I have in the past, but there was no need this year. We're in between Limbo cases as well as homicide cases right now, so there was no reason not to come home."

"Hmmm. You almost done in there? I gotta say, I look pretty good in a labcoat," he boasted, grinning at his own reflection in the bedroom mirror.

"Yes, just finishing up."

"You never did tell me what your costume is," he reminded her. Brennan smirked into the mirror and adjusted her breasts to fit a little more securely in her Wonder Woman bustier. There had been more than one reason she'd never brought up the subject of her costume after their shopping trip. First of all, she really wanted to see his face when she donned the full ensemble. Secondly, she had a feeling that if he'd known about it ahead of time, he just might have refused to let her wear it in public. Not that she was generally the type to let a man decide what she would or wouldn't wear, but she didn't relish the idea of spending the evening arguing about it.

"I guess I didn't," she admitted coyly.

"Well, are you ready?"

"Are _you?_ " she retorted, opening the door and stepping into the bedroom.

Booth turned to look at her and felt his body react immediately. Not only was he instantly hard, but his throat felt constricted, his jaw fell open, and his eyes widened in astonishment.

" _Wow,"_ was all he could manage to say aloud.

 _Holy Mother of God,_ he thought dazedly. Booth had the sudden urge to cross himself as his eyes raked slowly downward from her face all the way to the toes of her knee-high boots. She looked like pure sin; the kind for which every good Catholic boy had done penance. _Sex in spandex_ , he mused, his mouth watering as he watched her magnificent breasts rise slightly above the bodice of her costume with each breath she took. Her costume was complete with a Lasso of Truth dangling from her belt and Amazonium bracelets, and his mind descended even further into the gutter as he considered possible uses for that rope.

"How do I look?" she asked, moving her hands to her hips in a superhero stance and taking a moment to admire the way he looked in his labcoat.

"You… You look…" he faltered, trying to find a sufficient adjective. None seemed to exist.

"I assume from your obvious state of arousal that you… _like_ it?" she asked, striding toward him slowly. As if in answer to her question, Booth fumbled clumsily with the buttons on his labcoat, undoing them one by one, and she stopped abruptly. "What are you doing? We have to leave soon."

"Oh no, Bones… We're not going anywhere tonight." He stalked toward her as he finished the row of buttons, but rather than shrug out of the garment, he moved both hands to encircle her waist. Booth pulled her against his body, looking down to admire the way her breasts pillowed slightly onto his chest.

"We have to," she protested weakly as his hands slid slowly around her waist to cup her buttocks. Booth pressed his hardness against the star-spangled bottom of her costume, leaving her with no doubt as to the reason for the change of plans. "Cam is expecting-"

"Use one of your freebies. It'll be worth it, I _promise_." Booth bent to capture her lips in a fiery kiss, plundering her mouth with his tongue even as his hands gripped her ass more tightly to hold her hips in place against his own.

Brennan moaned into his mouth and kissed him back without reservation, sliding her hands slowly up the hard wall of his chest and slipping beneath the labcoat. She knew there was something she'd meant to say in response to his suggestion that she utilize one of her free passes, but in that moment, all logical thought had abandoned her. She clung to his wide shoulders as he proceeded to kiss her senseless.

Booth's hands didn't stay in one place for long. His fingers skimmed along the satiny spandex until they reached the top of her costume, and he dragged his mouth from hers somewhat reluctantly to look at her again. He didn't ever want to _stop_ looking.

"God, baby, you're incredible. So _hot_ , Bones." He licked his lips and swallowed thickly, watching her breasts move as she panted with her own arousal, threatening to spill out of the costume with every breath she took.

"I rather like you in that labcoat as well," she admitted in her bedroom voice. "I knew I would." Brennan gripped the lapels of the garment with both hands and pulled him forward into another kiss. This time, however, she was the aggressor, sliding her tongue expertly between his lips. Booth groaned and moved his hands to the smooth expanse of her chest, under her arms, and around to the flawless skin of her upper back. When she finally released his lips, they were gasping for air.

Brennan attempted to reach behind her back for the zipper on her costume, but he caught her wrists to stop her, his hands closing around the metal bracelets.

"No," he groaned, dipping his head to taste the skin below her jaw. "Leave it on. All of it."

Brennan shivered at his commanding tone and felt that familiar ache at her center growing stronger with each passing second. Booth stepped backward and pulled her along with him until his legs were touching the side of the bed. He sat down, encouraging her to stand between his parted knees, but she shook her head, pushing them together to straddle them instead. She was still standing, and the shiny silver band at the top of her bodice was at his eye level.

He couldn't resist the urge to bury his face her cleavage, dragging his tongue in an upward motion between her breasts. Brennan moaned, wanting him to pull the top of her costume down for better access, but she didn't want to rush him. His arms wrapped around her hips, and she felt his mouth fasten to the skin directly between her breasts. She knew he was marking her, and the thought made the ache grow even stronger.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were heavy with desire, and they drifted hungrily toward the junction of her legs. He moved his hands downward, smoothing his way over the outsides of her legs to the tops of her boots and back up again. She was wearing pantyhose _beneath_ the costume, and he realized there was really only one solution.

With a devilish grin, he laid himself completely back on the bed and pulled her with him, encouraging her to straddle his face rather than his hips. He didn't have to resort to words in order to convey what he wanted. She knew from experience what he had in mind when he curved his hands beneath her thighs and inclined his head meaningfully.

She groaned loudly, almost pleading, as she felt his teeth tear a hole in the nylon material. Booth used his hands to pull at the edges in a rather savage manner, widening the opening, and she trembled above him as he moved the blue and white spandex to one side.

Though she was _always_ ready for him, Booth wasn't sure he'd ever found her to be so wet before he'd even touched her. He wasted no time in fastening his mouth to the slick flesh, and she cried out in pleasure. Her hips moved of their own accord, driving his tongue deeper, and Brennan's head fell backward, eyes closed at the exquisite intimacy of his actions. She felt around blindly for something to hold on to, and she found his hands at her thighs. Booth moved to grip her wrists, allowing her to hold his as well, and within seconds she was rocketing toward her first release. She shouted as her entire body shook with pleasure.

As soon as Brennan was capable of movement, she wasted no time in moving to her hands and knees, crawling backward down his body while her gaze locked with his. She removed his pants and boxers quickly but left the shirt and labcoat in place, straddling his hips and moving the spandex of her costume to the side once more. She lowered herself onto him so slowly that Booth had to resist the urge to grasp her hips and bury himself within her immediately.

It was near torture, but the view from below her was stunning. Her fantastic breasts were now almost completely overflowing the cups of her bodice, and Booth could see the edges of each darkened tip peaking over the top of the costume. When she had finally taken his entire length within her, he felt he could wait no longer. Booth reached up to pull the top of the costume down, allowing her breasts to spill into his hands. He groaned with satisfaction at the weight of them in his palms.

Brennan began to move rhythmically up and down, coming nearly to the very end of his length before plunging back downward again. Booth did his best to hold back for as long as possible, wanting to give her another release before he sought his own, and he moved one hand to the place where they were joined, slipping his fingers inside the stretchy material until they found her clit. She must have been closer than he'd realized, because with only the slightest pressure applied to the tiny bundle of nerves, she was coming apart once more.

Her spasms triggered his own climax, and they shouted together, their voices harmonizing and bouncing off the walls of their bedroom. As their tremors slowed, she fell forward onto his chest, drained and exhausted. Booth's arms encircled her immediately, hindered only a little by the suit-like cut of the labcoat.

"Oh my God, Bones. That was…" he couldn't seem to string his words together, and she chuckled at his incoherency.

"I concur," she panted, still trying to recover. Booth held her tightly to his chest, feeling his thundering heart slow to a more reasonable speed as the seconds passed.

"I love you, Bones. So much."

"I love you too."

"I hope you didn't really want to go to that party," he said, smiling a little apologetically. Brennan shrugged against his chest and grinned back at him.

"There's always next year."

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Brennan was pestered relentlessly by her best friend over the next few days. Angela didn't seem to think it was fair that she'd had to attend the party without a 'wingman,' and she demanded that her compensation come in the form of juicy details about the _real_ reason the couple had stayed home. Cam was also less than pleased that Booth and Brennan had failed to show up for the Halloween party, but she didn't have much time to focus on the irritation. The remains of a young girl had been discovered at the District's municipal water treatment plant. The team's attention was soon directed toward solving her murder rather than speculating over the cause of their friends' absence at a 'compulsory' social function.

The victim was identified as a nine-year-old child beauty pageant contestant named Brianna Swanson. She had been reported missing three months previously and had disappeared from a beauty pageant in Delaware. Booth and Brennan interviewed both of her parents separately, and each parent made veiled accusations against the other.

Brennan was appalled by each new piece of evidence they discovered. Not only had the little girl's hair and teeth been cosmetically altered, but it appeared she had also been given medication for acne and perspiration and had slept in a corset each night. Each time the team gathered to corroborate their findings, it seemed that all of them were feeling a high degree of disgust with the rapidly forming picture of the little girl's life.

The day after the remains were found, Brennan was surprised to return from a suspect interview to find Angela waiting on her office couch.

"Hodgins asked me out," she announced, staring into the empty air in front of her while she fiddled with her necklace. Brennan took a brief moment to study her friend, the way she imagined that Booth would do when trying to get a read on someone.

"Is that why you're hiding in here?" Brennan replied cautiously.

"I'm not hiding… _I need advice."_ The tone of her voice was almost desperate, and Brennan felt immediately out of her element.

"On a _personal matter…_ from _me_?"

"Yes," Angela replied, as though her logic should have been obvious. Brennan sighed and came to sit next to her on the couch.

"Do you _like_ Hodgins?"

"Yes, but… I'm afraid that dating someone at work will get messy. Not everyone can manage it the way you and Booth do."

Cam leaned against the open doorway, unseen by either of the other women, and Brennan's next words kept her from interrupting their conversation.

"It will only get messy if you let it, Angela. It's absolutely possible to keep a professional relationship in the workplace while maintaining a romantic one everywhere else. It's not always easy," Brennan admitted, "but it _can_ be done, so long as _both_ relationships are important enough to you both."

"So… you're saying I should go for it?" Angela asked, a little surprised at Brennan's eloquence on the subject. Cam, however, was even more intrigued by Brennan's advice, and she couldn't help but think yet again that her old friend had finally met 'the one.'

"I think you should go on a date when you think you're ready. Saying yes to a date doesn't mean you're saying yes to a relationship." Angela nodded thoughtfully, and Brennan felt compelled to add a proviso. "But Angela… if it turns out that you're not interested, don't let Hodgins believe otherwise. He's a good man."

"I wouldn't lead him on, Bren," Angela insisted with a sentimental smile. "You know me better than that."

Brennan nodded, wondering how this conversation might have gone if it had taken place a couple of years ago. _I certainly seem to have evolved_ , Brennan mused, having no doubt about the reason for that change.

"I agree with Dr. Brennan," Cam announced from the doorway, and though Brennan's initial reaction was to bristle at the intrusion, there was a softness in the pathologist's voice that soothed her irritation. "There's no harm in a date or two."

Angela looked happier but no less nervous than she had before. She acknowledged Cam with a nod before turning back to Brennan.

"Thanks, Bren," she said, reaching over to squeeze her friend's hand. Brennan returned the pressure and smiled.

"You're welcome. Was there something you needed, Cam?" she asked politely, turning her attention to their boss.

"Yes, actually. I just got off the phone with Booth, and he asked me to tell you that he's coming to pick you up for a visit to the victim's dance class."

"Thanks," Brennan replied, nodding as she rose in preparation to leave.

"Oh, and Angela?"

"Yeah?" she replied, looking back at Cam.

"You know I have to do the boss thing, where I officially request that you and Hodgins keep things professional in the lab, right? I mean, I normally might just wait until the request became truly necessary, but you two have been flirting a _lot_ , so… Just _please_ don't have sex at work."

Angela chuckled and glanced at Brennan, noticing the deep blush that had risen to her cheeks. Cam followed the artist's gaze and raised her brows in surprise.

"Something you'd like to add, Dr. Brennan?"

Brennan shook her head, doing her best to keep her expression neutral in spite of the vivid memory of Booth bending her over the very desk she now stood next to.

"No, of course not. I'm just going to go...wait for Booth," she faltered. "He should be here any minute."

"Bye, Sweetie," Angela called after her, grinning widely at Brennan's embarrassment. Cam had the feeling she might be issuing that same warning to Booth and Brennan at some point, and her discomfort must've been apparent in her features. "Don't worry, Cam. She knows where the security cameras are," she snickered.

If anything, Cam only looked more concerned.

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The victim's mother gave the partners a solid alibi, and they entered the dance school in hopes of turning up a new suspect from amongst the teachers or other parents. It didn't take long for one of the mothers to strike up a conversation with Booth, and Brennan scowled slightly at the woman's overt flirtation. Not that Brennan could fault her taste-he _was_ wearing one of his gray suits today. Booth looked equally uncomfortable, and Brennan recognized that the best way to get information from the woman might be by way of her partner's charm smile. She nudged him slightly with her elbow and pretended to be more focused on the dancing children than in their conversation.

The woman, Kristen Mitchell, proudly pointed out her daughter and informed Booth that she and the victim had taken dance classes together and competed in the same pageants. As Brennan listened to the woman sing the praises of the child pageant world, she couldn't keep the disgust from her features, and she noted that Booth wore a similar expression.

When the class ended, Booth spoke to the instructor while Brennan talked to a small group of girls who had known the victim. She was even more disturbed by the cultural structure of the underage pageant contestants, and she couldn't help but wonder what mother in her right mind would allow her daughter to live that way. Booth returned from his discussion with the dance instructor a few minutes later, and he placed his hands beneath Brennan's arms to lift her from the floor and away from the circle of girls.

He explained that the teacher had shown him a photo of a teenage boy, the brother of a contestant, who had been lurking around the pageant on the day Brianna had disappeared. Only a moment later, the boy in question arrived to pick up his sister, and Brennan noted the steel-toe boots he was wearing, recalling that flecks of steel had been found on the victim. A kick from that type of boot would have also matched the bone trauma.

Booth spoke to the boy and his mother that evening in the interrogation room, and after some chastising from his mother, the boy handed over his boots to be tested. Booth waited at the lab for Hodgins and Zack to finish analyzing them and stretched out on Brennan's couch to watch her working at her desk. He smiled gently as he observed her graceful movements, her flawless profile, and her intense focus on her tasks.

"You're staring," she commented, not looking up from the file she was working on.

"You're stunning," he countered. Booth was pleased to see her lips curve upward in response, but before he could say anything else they were interrupted by Hodgins and Zack. The boots were not a match for the evidence. Booth grumbled, hating that every lead seemed to be a dead end in this case.

As Hodgins left, he announced that he had a date that evening, and although Booth wouldn't have thought anything of it at first, the smile on Brennan's face was enough to intrigue him.

"What's going on, Bones?"

"Hodgins' date is with Angela," she informed him, still grinning as she packed her things. Booth crossed the room and helped her into her jacket, fighting her silently for the burden of carrying her bag. She finally swatted his hands away and switched off the light, leaving him no choice but to follow her.

"They're just now going on a date? They've been flirting for weeks. More like _months_ probably. What was the holdup?"

"Apparently Angela has some qualms about beginning a relationship with a co-worker," she answered, smirking up at him as they stepped into the elevator and descended to the parking structure level. "She actually asked _me_ for advice about it."

"Why shouldn't she?" he asked, smiling tenderly into her eyes. "You're her best friend, and clearly you've been there and done that."

"Been where?"

"I mean that you...have experience related to her problem," he explained. Brennan confusion melted instantly, and she continued to speak as they got into the SUV.

"Yes, I assume that's why she asked. I told her that it would only be a problem if she and Hodgins allowed it to become one, and that there was no harm in agreeing to a date, just to…"

"See where things stand?"

"Yes, exactly. I find that I'm nervous as well as excited to hear how it goes. No one has ever asked me to advise them on issues of a romantic nature."

Booth grinned but felt his chest twinge just a little at the wonder in her voice. It was as though the idea of someone wanting her opinion about love and romance was something completely unexpected and foreign to her. He could hear the pride and astonishment in her tone, and he reached over to hold her hand as they drove home.

For someone who had spent so many years not believing in love, it was remarkable that Brennan had encouraged her friend to give it a chance, and Booth couldn't help but feel proud of her open heart.

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The following day, Cam was able to confirm that a piece of paper found in Brianna's pocket was actually an ice cream bar wrapper. The brand was only sold at a certain type of convenience store, and there happened to be one near the hotel where the pageant had been held. Booth and Brennan paid a visit to the convenience store and walked the area in search of a culvert such as the one in which Hodgins believed the victim might have originally been placed. He theorized that her body had remained there until recent flooding had moved it into the water treatment pipelines.

When they managed to find the crime scene, they also located a pageant medal that was dated 1976. It turned out to belong to Kristen Mitchell, but Brennan cleared her quickly, having determined that whomever had kicked Brianna had suffered from scoliosis. The impact fractures were uneven, suggesting a curvature of the assailant's spine and uneven hips.

As the day progressed, the evidence led them to another contestant: Haley Ferrell, the same girl whose brother had surrendered his boots to the FBI. She tearfully explained that the victim had pretended to be nice to her and bought her an ice cream bar from the nearby convenience store, but then the two had argued in the parking lot. Brianna had bullied her, and Haley had pushed her hard enough to knock her off balance. Brianna's chin had struck a parking block, snapping her neck, and in a panic, Haley had hidden the body in a culvert.

Later that evening, Booth found his partner in the lounge, glancing through the case file and picking at a glazed donut. He greeted her with a kiss and playfully swiped a bite of the donut.

"This is what happened when Rome fell," she remarked.

"What? People ate stale donuts?" he replied, taking the seat next to her.

"Objectification of women, beauty as self-esteem…"

"Well, you know… I think some of those kids actually had a good time." He recalled the small portion of the pageant they'd been forced to endure, remembering that some of the children had looked genuinely happy, even if the rest had seemed anxious and depressed.

"The girl in the pink could really dance," she nodded, tilting her head to the side a moment later. "But then again, Nero could really play the fiddle."

Booth chuckled and caught her gaze, leaning his head closer toward hers.

"You know, Bones… I like to think that, someplace deep inside, people really know what's important."

"It's hard to believe that when you see young women trying to disguise or change themselves. I've never understood that," she replied, shaking her head sadly.

"Well no, of course you wouldn't," he said mysteriously, ducking his head slightly to conceal a widening smile. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Why?"

"Well, it's just…" he looked back at her, his brown eyes full of warmth and love. "Someone who looks like you...wouldn't understand. Just because of the way you look."

"What way do I look?" she pressed, still baffled, and he leaned forward to kiss her softly.

 _Prime example_ , he mused. _Could she possibly look any more adorable right now?_

"You're…" he struggled to put it in a term she would understand and, more importantly, believe. "You're _structured_ very well."

The term did indeed earn him one of her sexy crooked smiles, and Booth felt his pulse quicken.

"As are you," she agreed quietly.

The two stared into one another's eyes, mesmerized and perhaps unaware that their noses were separated by mere inches. When Brennan could no longer stand the tension, she closed the distance to capture his lips passionately. Their surroundings seemed to fade even further into nonexistence, and their tongues vied for dominance, the seconds stretching into minutes until the tell-tale sound of a throat being cleared rather loudly interrupted them.

Booth ended the kiss softly and peeked over Brennan's shoulder to the lower level. Cam stood with her arms crossed and brow raised, but the smirk on her face reassured him that all was well. He grinned sheepishly back at her and returned her parting wave.

"Are you hungry?" Brennan asked, reclaiming his attention.

"Yeah. I was thinking maybe-"

"Thai food?" They said the words in unison, smiling conspiratorially at one another. He quickly pulled her out of her chair and helped her gather the paperwork.

"This time, I'm ordering extra mee krob because _you_ ate it all last time," he announced, nudging her with his hip as they rode the elevator to the garage. They bickered about the accuracy of his statement nearly all the way home.

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As Booth's thirty-sixth birthday approached, Brennan was startled by her boyfriend's persistence in hounding her playfully about his gift. After she had told him, rather sternly, that she wouldn't be divulging anything, he'd taken it upon himself to pester the squints for information as well. Fortunately, Brennan had kept her plans entirely to herself.

 _Un_ fortunately, however, they were notified of a non-local case just two days before his birthday, and it was unlikely that they would be back that quickly. When Booth announced their destination, Brennan looked up from her half-empty suitcase in alarm.

"Vegas? Are you sure…" she faltered, not wanting to offend him. "Will you be okay with that?"

"Sure," he replied easily. But he caught her eye a moment later, and his features softened in belated comprehension of her question. "Bones, I'll be fine. I've been doing great for over two years now."

"Yes, but...you've called it an addiction, Booth. That kind of thing never completely goes away." She twisted her fingertips nervously, and he nodded in agreement.

"You're right. It never goes away, and it never will. Addiction is something a person fights every day, no matter what it is they're addicted to. But I've been handling it well for a good while now." When she didn't look very reassured, he crossed the room and pulled her gently into his arms. "I'll be fine. Plus, I'll have _you_ , Bones. You have no idea how much it will help just to have you there."

"Okay," she nodded, smiling faintly.

"Would it make you feel better if I went to a meeting before we left?"

"Only if you feel you need to. I trust you, Booth. And you know that if you need help, all you have to do is ask me."

"I know, baby." He kissed her tenderly before resting his forehead against hers. "Let's get packed, okay? Who knows, maybe this case will be fun."

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 **Okay, so... no, I haven't forgotten that those costumes don't really appear until S3, but it was just too perfect to pass up. Let's just say I have a special place in my heart for that WW costume, and after their case next year, they won't be in any shape to have fun anyway. Also, raise your hand if you think Trick-or-Treating is _totally_ blackmail. (me!) It's pretty obvious what's coming next. I had a great time writing this chapter and the next (and the last). Hope you enjoy them too! **

**Review if you can, thanks! :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Happy Bonesday! This chapter covers The Woman in the Sand, which is one of my very favorite episodes. I'm sure you'll notice that I changed some things to suit** ** _my_** **Booth and Brennan better, but they're fairly small changes. Hopefully they're both still in character.**

 **Enjoy and please review! :)**

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Chapter 14

Brennan kept a close eye on her partner from the time their plane landed in Las Vegas until they arrived at the crime scene and found one more body than they'd anticipated. The evidence required the majority of her attention from that point forward, but she still observed him through occasional sidelong glances and staring contests.

The skeletal remains were thought to belong to Mason Roberts, a federal prosecutor who had disappeared the day before a mob trial five years ago. Brennan was able to confirm that it was a male in his thirties who had been beaten with something like a pipe or baseball bat, and Booth commented that a beating like that matched the mob theory perfectly.

Only minutes into her preliminary evaluation of the bones, Brennan noticed a few carrion birds circling not far from the tent that had been erected over the skeletal remains. The second body was only a week to ten days post mortem and belonged to a female in her mid-twenties, but the injuries matched those she'd found on the skeletal remains.

They remained on the scene for hours, and Brennan conferenced with Cam and Angela in order to compare dental records for the prosecutor and run a serial number from a hearing aid she'd pulled from the female victim. The dentals matched, and the serial number led them to a Billie Morgan, who had been reported missing by her husband two weeks ago.

Brennan agreed to ship all of the evidence back to DC, but Booth could tell she wasn't particularly happy about letting it out of her hands. He stayed wisely silent but couldn't help a tiny smile at her grumpiness as they drove their rented SUV to inform Billie Morgan's husband of her death. Brennan had her arms crossed and was biting the inside of her lip fretfully. As much as she would have liked to fly back with the remains, she knew that Booth needed her help more than the lab did this time. Aside from the fact that this was a potential mob case, which came with its own dangers, working a case in Vegas would undoubtedly be tricky for him.

He needed his partner _and_ his girlfriend, and she wasn't about to leave him, regardless of what the team might turn up as the case progressed.

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The evidence of domestic abuse that Brennan had found on Billie Morgan had them expecting a rather different person than the one they encountered when they met Billie's husband. Don Morgan was small in stature and seemed genuinely upset at the news of his wife's death. He vehemently denied ever having hurt his wife, and he claimed that they'd argued over money the last time he'd seen her.

Don admitted to having borrowed eight thousand dollars from a loan shark in order to pay for breast implants that Billie had hoped would help her land a job as a dancer. He had given his wife the cash and had never seen her again. Don had been under the impression that she had left him and taken off with the money.

Booth surmised correctly that the loan shark in question had returned to collect his eight grand, and when Don couldn't pay him, the shark or his cronies had broken the man's thumb. Brennan raised a quizzical brow at Booth's quick deduction but remained silent while he talked Don into giving up the name of the loan shark. She fervently hoped that Booth had never found himself in a similar predicament caused by his gambling, and she cringed inwardly at the mental picture of that possibility.

Booth had someone at the Bureau track the loan shark to a local hotel casino, and he steered their vehicle in that direction while they discussed the man they'd just interviewed.

"I'm just not sold on the whole domestic abuse thing, alright? A scrawny guy like that-"

"Rage has nothing to do with size," Brennan interjected.

"I know that Bones, _you know_ that I know that. It's just...I looked into the guy's eyes, and I just didn't see it."

Brennan's attention caught on his first statement, and she wondered briefly about his father's stature. Booth, on the other hand, was picturing his tall but thin partner laying out full-grown men in seconds.

"What about the breast implants?" she pressed. "You know, if she'd gotten them, they would have been a part of her remains."

"Yeah. Well, then the money had to be for something else, and hopefully this guy," he showed her a picture of the man that had just been sent to his cell, "will be able to tell us what it was."

Brennan didn't reply but instead resumed her studious observation of his expression and movements. To anyone else, he would have appeared to be perfectly calm and focused, but Brennan wasn't just _anyone_. She could read Booth nearly as well as she could read skeletal remains, and it was clear to her that he was growing increasingly anxious as they drew closer to the hotel.

Before allowing Booth to leave the car so that the valet could take care of it, she reached for his hand and squeezed it to claim his full attention.

"Are you sure you're up for this?"

"Of course," he assured her. "I'll be okay."

Brennan would've liked to have kept hold of his hand as they walked toward the casino on the main floor, but she knew that the sooner they tracked down Lou Mackey, the sooner they could leave. She scanned the area for a sign of the man and spotted him quickly, but she then realized that Booth was lingering at the entrance a few steps behind her.

"Booth?" Brennan came back to stand in front of him, blocking his view of the casino. He looked a little wild-eyed and was breathing a bit heavier than usual.

"I just need a minute. I'm okay."

Brennan placed a hand to the side of his face and locked eyes with him. Booth allowed himself to get lost in the mesmerizing depths of her blue eyes, and as each second passed, his breathing came easier. The noisy sounds of the slot machines seemed to be muted, and the panicky feeling faded to a manageable tension. They stood with their faces mere inches apart, unmoving but poised as though their lips might touch at any moment. Booth stared into her eyes for so long that a couple of bystanders actually stopped to watch, but he was oblivious to their audience. He'd found his anchor in her unwavering gaze, and he could find no trace of judgment in her eyes. There was only love, support, and trust. She didn't doubt that he could handle this, and her faith in him made him all the more determined to live up to it.

"Thanks, Bones," he said a little brokenly. Brennan smiled gently and touched her lips to his swiftly before turning back toward the casino.

Lou Mackey was still in sight and was headed toward the bar, and Booth moved to follow, leading Brennan with a hand to her back.

"Look, you wait here, okay? I know how to talk to these guys," he said as they neared the entrance to the bar. Brennan pursed her lips at being left out but followed his instruction and watched from a short distance as Booth approached the loan shark.

"Lou Mackey," Booth greeted him genially as he took the barstool next to the older man. "Don't I owe you money?"

"I'm afraid you have me confused with someone else," the man replied, not making eye contact.

"I don't think I do. My buddy, Don Morgan, he introduced us. Thirty? Scrawny guy? _Broken thumb?_ "

"Do I need to call security?"

Booth grinned and pulled out his badge, placing it on the bar before answering.

"Yeah, you know, that's a great idea. Maybe you can tell all of us what you did to Don and just maybe how his wife ended up dead."

"I don't know anything about any wife," Lou evaded. Booth smirked and tossed a picture of Billie Morgan onto the bar. "She's attractive. I didn't even know he was married."

"How about the name Mason Roberts? I'm sure that rings a bell."

"Whispers on the Strip are that you finally found him. Congratulations. Now leave me alone," he retorted, eyes widening slightly in what the man probably thought was an intimidating expression. Booth merely grinned back at him, pocketing his badge and the photo.

"If you know more than you're saying, I'm gonna find out eventually."

"Do I look worried? I'm a businessman. What are you harassing me for?"

"Ah, you know… Just something I have about bullies. Thanks for the drink." Booth reached around the other side of Lou to swipe the glass of amber liquid from the bar and gave the man a sarcastic salute before strolling out of the bar.

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Brennan was waiting for him, and they left the casino quickly to head back to their own hotel. Booth didn't resist the urge to take her hand as they made their way to the exit, and she squeezed it back reassuringly.

Once they were back in the SUV, Brennan booted up her laptop to check the team's progress on the evidence. Booth quelled the temptation to remind her that they most likely hadn't had the remains for more than an hour or two, knowing that relinquishing control of the analysis was testing her patience.

The team gathered around a webcam in Angela's office to report their findings. Hodgins announced that the scarab beetles that had fed on Billie Morgan had been poisoned by high levels of glucocorticoid in her system, and Zack took a few minutes to run through the list of fractures to both sets of remains that he'd been able to identify so far. Mason Roberts had been beaten with a baseball bat, and his throat had been cut as well.

The injuries to Billie Morgan were more perplexing, and it wasn't until Brennan got a look at the x-rays on her computer screen that she determined their origin. Billie Morgan hadn't been a victim of domestic abuse; it was more likely that she'd been a boxer.

"You mean like a real boxer? In a ring?" Booth asked, surprised at her conclusion.

"But wouldn't boxing gloves have prevented injuries like these?" Cam inquired, referring to the numerous old and new fractures to the Billie's hands.

"Unless she wasn't wearing gloves," Hodgins suggested.

"Well, what boxer does that?" Angela asked.

"Ultimate fighters."

"Ultimate fighters," Booth echoed in approval. "You're into that crap too, huh Hodgins?"

"Dude, it's barbaric. When it shows up on cable, I can't turn it off."

"And it's actually legal?" Angela verified.

"Completely sanctioned. They do wear some protective gear, which would fly in the face of our girl's injuries though."

"That is, unless it was underground," Booth pointed out.

"Underground where?" his partner asked.

"Come on. Haven't you guys ever seen Fight Club?" Booth asked, grinning inwardly at the potential complaints Brennan would have about the psychological aspects of the film. Meanwhile, Hodgins sounded like he was positively thrilled at the idea.

"Illegal, no holds barred, slugfest. Modern-day Panem et Circenses. But generally there's no free bread," he sniggered. Cam shot him a dirty look. "What?"

Brennan closed the connection a few moments later, and Booth suggested they pay one more visit to Don Morgan before heading to their hotel.

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Don claimed to have had know idea that his wife was fighting. He admitted that she'd been a boxer, but that her league had kicked her out more than a year earlier when they found out about her damaged hearing. Booth and Brennan teamed up to antagonize him a little, asking if perhaps the eight thousand dollars had been wagered in Billie's favor and subsequently lost when she'd been defeated, but Don didn't waver from his insistence that he had no idea who had killed his wife.

They headed back to check in at their hotel, studiously avoiding the casino in favor of the restaurant on the lower level. They discussed the reasons Billie might have had for taking part in illegal fighting, but they were interrupted by a phone call from Hodgins. He'd found traces of hexavalent chromium on Billie's shoes and explained that such a thing would most likely be found in an automotive shop that specialized in chroming. Since any mechanic who used the chemical had to file reports with the EPA, it should be a fairly simple matter to track down the origin. Brennan thanked him and ended the call, noticing that Booth's eyes had wandered to the stack of Keno cards on the table.

"Hey," she said, reaching a hand out to gently tilt his chin in her direction. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Booth replied, wincing a little at the distant jackpot sounds emanating from the casino.

"Let's head upstairs," she suggested. Booth had finished his meal, but Hodgins' phone call had delayed Brennan a little.

"No, finish your meal, Bones. I'm okay."

"I'm done," she assured him, giving a playful wink before she continued. "Besides, if we get hungry... _later_...there's always room service."

Booth grinned and followed her to the elevators, deciding that watching her bottom half as she walked was far more entertaining than the card tables they were passing.

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Booth groaned as he was awoken by the sound of his girlfriend's voice, and it took him a few seconds to realize that she was speaking into her cell. Hodgins was calling with the address of the only automotive shop in the area that had been authorized to use hexavalent chromium before it had been shut down. Brennan thanked him sleepily after she'd jotted the address onto the notepad on the nightstand, and Booth's face scrunched in confusion at her next words.

"Tell Angela thank you as well and remind her to be at my house at two, okay? It shouldn't take long… She has a key… Thanks, Hodgins." Brennan snapped the phone shut and put it back on the nightstand, rolling over to face her boyfriend. She was only a little surprised to find his eyes already open.

"What was that about?" he asked curiously, still not quite awake. A glance at the clock told him it wasn't even six a.m. yet, and he grunted in frustration. "Did Hodgins forget the time difference?"

"Probably. He gave me the address for the auto shop we need to check out." Brennan yawned and snuggled closer to Booth. He moaned wearily and pulled her against him.

"Happy Birthday," she purred, nuzzling into his neck to press her lips to his pulse.

"Thanks, baby," he smiled. Booth shivered a little, enjoying the feel of her mouth against his skin. Within seconds, his body was reacting predictably, and Brennan chuckled seductively as she felt his arousal pressing against her.

"You know, waking up early isn't a _complete_ loss..."

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A few hours later, they'd dressed and made their way to the address Hodgins had provided.

"What was the other thing you were saying to Hodgins? About Angela," Booth asked as they got out of the SUV.

"Nothing," she replied, her voice just a little too casual. Booth glanced at her suspiciously.

"Seriously?" he pressed, not believing her for a minute. Brennan was _not_ a good liar.

"Seriously."

"Uh huh…" He decided to let it drop as they stepped into the dark interior of the abandoned auto shop. The vast concrete floor was littered with scraps of paper, and a large black circle had been painted onto its surface.

"Heh, flash paper," Booth said, picking up one of the scraps.

"What's that?"

"Betting slips. Uh… Burn fast in case there's a raid," he explained awkwardly. She merely nodded, and he once more found himself feeling grateful for her lack of judgment. Brennan removed her UV light from her pocket and shined it over the floor. Blood spatter glowed back at them immediately. The floor was practically covered in it.

She took some samples and had them overnighted to the lab on their way back to the hotel casino where they'd found Lou Mackey the day before. As they walked through the noisy area, Booth didn't seem to struggle as he had the last time. Brennan was pleased to note that the tension in his shoulders appeared no greater than the amount he carried on a typical day.

They spotted Lou Mackey fairly quickly, and they interrupted his discussion with a man who looked to be around Booth's age. The unknown man also looked like he would've loved to be just about anywhere else.

"Hey, look at this!" Booth said jovially as they approached. "It's my buddy, Lou Mackey."

"Oh great. So we're friends now?" Lou sneered.

"I need you to tell me where a fight fan can get a little-"

" _Seeley?"_ the unknown man interrupted him. Only then did Booth recognize the face of an old friend.

"Frankie?"

"What are you doing back in Vegas, huh?" Frankie said excitedly, pulling Booth into a 'guy hug.' Brennan looked mystified by the interaction, trying to recall if she'd ever seen Booth hug anyone other than herself and his son.

"Your man's got a lot of friends," Lou told her, eyeing Brennan up and down in a manner that didn't go unnoticed by either partner.

"So it would seem," Brennan replied coolly, shifting her weight slightly closer to Booth, who immediately wrapped an arm around her waist. Lou bid Frankie a slightly threatening farewell and ambled away.

"Is he a problem?" Booth asked his old friend.

"No, no, it's all good. Hey, look at you, huh…" Frankie's eyes drifted to Brennan with bright interest.

"Yeah, Frankie Daniels, this is Temperance Brennan," Booth introduced them. "Frankie and I served in the Gulf together."

Brennan shook his hand politely, recognizing the combined effects of dopamine and serotonin in the man's jubilant expression and jerky movements. She listened to the conversation with a slightly analytical perspective and gathered that the man's gambling addiction had led to a divorce and a great deal of financial trouble. She wondered idly if the man had ever tried an antidepressant.

"Listen, Frankie… You know anything about these underground fight clubs?" Booth asked quietly.

"Yeah, actually I do know one. Bare knuckles, no rules."

"Great. I need to know where."

"It moves around. This guy, Joe Noland, sells eight-hundred numbers. You call, you find out the time, the place, a code to get in…"

"The old boxer, Joe Noland?" Booth asked. Frankie nodded.

"The heavyweight champion in '92. He owns a gym here on Federal."

"Thanks."

"You looking to get in on the action?"

"Oh, you know… I did some boxing back in the day. Thought I might check it out," Booth answered evasively. Brennan fought to keep her expression neutral, realizing that Booth hadn't told his friend why he was really asking or the fact that he was FBI, but the thought of Booth participating in an illegal fight was not a pleasant one.

"Well, it's high stakes. Not cheap to get onto the roster either, or so I hear."

"Got it. Thanks, man."

They parted ways, heading toward the exit, and as soon as they were out of Frankie's earshot, Brennan asked the obvious question.

"Are you planning to fight?"

"I don't know, Bones… I'm thinking it might be just about the only way to get the inside information, you know? Illegal fight clubs are underground for a reason. Everything's secretive. It's not like I can just go flash my badge and question the guy."

"Okay… so what's the plan?"

"Come up with an undercover strategy, see what I can find out that way."

Brennan's face lit with interest, and Booth did a double take at the change in her expression as they climbed into the SUV. Her eyes were bright with the kind of fervor she usually reserved for mysterious skeletal remains and John Wayne movies.

"That sounds intriguing," she gushed. "What should I be?"

"No, Bones. Just me this time," he said gently. "Undercover work requires a high degree of deception, and you're…" _a really bad liar_ "...too honest for that, okay?"

"I can do it, Booth! I can, I promise." Brennan's expression became hopeful and pleading, and Booth wondered if she knew what that particular face did to him. Every time he saw it, he felt like giving her just about anything she might want. He sighed, trying to keep his eyes on the road and away from that _face_. "Come on, _please_? I can contribute to your undercover persona. You can even decide what I should wear."

Booth quirked a brow, intrigued at the prospect. It _was_ his birthday, after all…

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Their hotel contained a number of small shops, and they took a few hours to have lunch and select clothing for their undercover identities. True to her word, she allowed Booth to pick a couple of dresses for the occasion. One was black, the other red, and both were revealing. Brennan smirked at her reflection in the dressing room mirror, thinking that her boyfriend was certainly taking full advantage of her offer. She didn't allow him to see the dresses in the store, deciding that it was perhaps the sort of reveal she should do in the privacy of their room.

Brennan left him briefly to put together his own wardrobe and discreetly made her way to an ATM. Judging by Frankie's assessment, this deception would require a good amount of money. He was obviously a man who had won and lost quite a bit over the years, so his idea of 'high stakes' was probably pretty substantial. She decided to pull the maximum amount allowed by the ATM from her savings and rolled it into a rubber band, wedging it between her breasts before making her way back to Booth.

He had finished his shopping, and he gave her a summary of their undercover identities as they rode the elevator back to their room.

"Right, Bones, so… I'm Tony Scallion, originally from New York, used to box in the army. You're Roxanne-"

" _Roxanne?"_ she echoed in distaste.

"No? How 'bout Roxie?"

"Better."

They entered their hotel room, and Brennan carried her garment bags into the bathroom to change and refresh her hair and makeup. Booth spoke to her through the closed door as he got dressed as well.

"Ok, so we're newlyweds. Takin' Sin City by storm… Ready for action." He adjusted the collar of his white shirt and tugged it a little over his wifebeater and suspenders.

"We can't be newlyweds, Booth. I don't have a ring. Wouldn't that be kind of obvious?"

"Oh, right. Okay, we'll stick with girlfriend then. Maybe fiancée?" he asked, trying not to sound hopeful at the prospect of being allowed to call her that, even just as a ruse. The bathroom door opened with a low creak, and Booth watched her step out looking a little nervous.

He felt as though the air had been temporarily sucked from the room, finding it hard to inhale and even harder to remember what he'd said only seconds before. _Was that dress that tiny in the store?_ Booth knew it must have been, but he was sure it hadn't seemed so revealing on the hanger. He was suddenly faced with a new dilemma. He wanted to show her off almost as much as he wanted to hide her away and keep her to himself. He wanted to do what was necessary to solve the case but not as much as he wanted to lock her in their hotel room and make love to her for hours. _Jesus Christ, how am I going to focus on_ anything _when she looks like that…_

"Is this okay?" she asked, fairly certain she was reading both desire and uncertainty in his features.

"Yeah," he said faintly. "Yeah, that's… yeah."

She walked toward the bed, providing a very appreciative Booth with a view of her back.

"Can you zip me up?"

Booth cleared his tight throat and stepped behind her to oblige just as Brennan's cell rang.

"Hey, Cam," she greeted after checking the ID. Booth knew they were talking, but his attention was focused solely on the expanse of smooth skin he was slowly concealing as he zipped the back of the tiny black dress.

" _That's hot,"_ he groaned involuntarily. Brennan glanced back at him with a smirk.

"Hot? Wait a minute, what's _hot_?" Angela asked her over the speakerphone.

"Uh… Nothing." She giggled a little as Booth brought his mouth down to the base of her neck and wrapped both arms around her waist. "Vegas…is hot. It's...very hot here." She tried to focus on Angela's response, but at that moment Booth captured her lips in a searing kiss, and the world faded away. She snapped the phone shut quickly, not particularly concerned with the fact that she'd just hung up on her boss and her best friend.

"Jesus, Bones… You look incredible," he mumbled against her lips. She turned to face him and wound her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His hands crept down to cup her backside, pulling her hips into his.

"We should go," she whispered between kisses. "We can do this later, when there's more time."

Booth agreed reluctantly and forced himself to step away, doing his best to breathe evenly.

"We'd damn well better have all night, baby."

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Brennan was seriously questioning her choice of shoes within minutes of leaving the hotel. She had grabbed the only pair of black heels she'd seen that were her size, not bothering to try them on with the assumption that she wouldn't be wearing them all that long. What she'd failed to realize was that they were at least two inches higher than anything she normally wore, and walking was tricky. By the time they stepped through the doors to Noland's gym, her legs were starting to feel a little sore.

"My semitendinosus muscles are already aching," Brennan complained under her breath.

"What?"

"The shoes are making my legs hurt. How does anybody actually walk in these things?"

Booth was in the process of feeling out his character but couldn't resist a grin at her complaint. What Brennan hadn't realized was that the eyes of every man in the gym had turned in her direction as soon as she'd walked into the room. He adopted his best New York accent to reply.

"Well, ya know, them boots, they ain't made for walkin' sweetheart," he answered, giving her a provocative slap on the ass. Brennan's eyes widened a bit, but she maintained her smile as she watched him grin with his tongue protruding between his lips, looking rather pleased with himself.

She threw an arm around his shoulders, and he brought his around her waist.

"Okay, that was totally over the top," she said through clenched, smiling teeth. She knew he'd never dare to do something like that in public under normal circumstances, and she thought he might be enjoying this just a little too much. However, she acknowledged inwardly that she'd never been undercover before. _Maybe I should just follow his lead,_ she mused.

"Alright, well you play your part, and I'll play mine," he said quietly, echoing her thoughts. They passed an elevated boxing ring where a young woman was training, and Brennan pointed her out in a low voice.

"Booth, the girl…"

"Yeah, I see. 5'6", southpaw," he acknowledged, noting the woman's left-handed stance.

"And left-handed," Brennan commented unnecessarily. Booth did his best not to roll his eyes.

"Can I help you folks?" A tall, middle-aged man greeted them from behind the ropes of a separate ring, looking down at them politely.

"I can't believe it, 'Sloppy Joe' Noland," Booth replied, slipping effortlessly into his undercover persona.

"Sloppy Joe?" Brennan asked, looking up at the man and curling her red lips into a sexy smile.

"Yeah! That's how he left his opponents," Booth explained.

"These days it's just Joe," the man said tolerantly. A younger man approached, wearing boxing gloves.

"I busted a lace, Joe."

"Sorry to bother you, Joe, but you know, you had a huge impact on my style back in the army. Ya know… Juke to the body, followed by a right hook? Worked for me every time," Booth said, demonstrating the technique slightly as he spoke. Joe nodded, but the younger man next to him interrupted the conversation again.

"Another army fighter, Joe?" he joked. "How many of these has-beens you get in here a week?"

"At least this one still looks like he's in shape," Joe pointed out. Brennan spotted an opportunity and flung her arm around Booth's shoulders, shooting a sultry smile up at the two men.

"Oh yeah! My man's in _great_ shape, believe me," she gushed, moving against her partner as though she might start stripping his clothes off right there and then.

"Easy there, honey," Booth replied, covertly warning her not to overdo it.

The younger man challenged Booth to show off some of his moves, and Brennan encouraged him, landing a playful slap on his rear end. The wide grin on her face was one hundred percent real, and she was satisfied that she'd achieved a proportionate response to his earlier behavior.

Booth shed his jacket and handed it to her before having a go at the punching bag while Joe held it steady. It wasn't the first time Brennan had watched him lay into a punching bag; in fact, it was something she rather enjoyed watching. This time was no different, and the husky tone of her voice as she praised him was completely genuine.

"What's your name?" Joe asked. Booth pulled Brennan close again and draped an arm around her shoulders, allowing his hand to graze her breast possessively.

"Tony Scallion. This here's my fiancée, uh, Roxanne."

"We're more _engaged_ to be engaged," she said with a sexy smile, their faces an inch apart as Joe asked a follow-up question. Booth indulged in a quick kiss before he returned his attention to the older man.

"So you looking to train or what?"

"Ah, you know… I don't fight no more, but they say you can direct me and Roxie to a little, you know… _underground_ action."

"They say a lot, don't they?" Joe replied with a lazy smile.

"Yeah, well, some guy at the Rio… one of them 'you didn't hear it from me' types…"

"Sorry, can't help you," he answered. Even Brennan could see he was lying, particularly when he exchanged glances with the young man behind him, who nodded at an unspoken question.

"Ah, what did I tell you, Tony? That guy was just trying to hit on me," she purred.

"Well, I do know a number you can call. Not that I give it out to just anybody," Joe said quickly.

"Oh, come on, Joe. They seem like such a nice people," the younger man encouraged, raking his eyes appreciatively over Brennan's figure. Booth's smile faltered a little, and he leaned his forehead to the side so that it touched Brennan's. The sultry tone she was using as 'Roxie' was more than doing the job, he realized, and he didn't particularly like the way the young man was staring at her.

"Ten thousand bucks," Joe announced. " _Each."_ Booth resisted the urge to sputter in shock.

"Whoa, that's a little steep-"

"No, Tony, come on! We only live once, and I want to see a fight," Brennan enthused, wiggling out from beneath his arm and stepping toward Joe. She reached two fingers into the bodice of her dress and pulled the roll of cash from her cleavage, passing it to him with a sexy smirk.

Booth tried to smile through his astonishment at her behavior, and the younger man was thoroughly amused at her antics.

"Nothing like being a kept man, huh?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, I don't know what I'd do without her," Booth replied, putting his arm back around her shoulders. The contact with her breast was clearly intentional this time.

They said their goodbyes and left with the phone number in hand, both feeling slightly high with exhilaration and sexual arousal. The tension seemed to make the air between them crackle with electricity, and once they reached the car, Booth grabbed her almost roughly, pushing her back against the vehicle and kissing her passionately.

In the back of his mind, he knew that this wasn't typically the sort of indulgence she allowed while they were in public and working a case, but he reasoned that his behavior would still fit their undercover personas.

Brennan kissed him back and wrapped herself around his body without a second thought. The deception as well as the observation of Booth's boxing moves had caused her libido to skyrocket, and she hoped he would agree to use the lights and siren on the way back to the hotel. She was nearly ready to rip the black dress off herself.

When Booth finally wrenched his lips from hers, her eyelids were heavy with desire, and each breath threatened to spill her breasts from the low-cut dress.

" _Fuck_ , Bones," he swore, panting and painfully hard. "Let's go."

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Booth struggled with the key card as he pressed Brennan firmly against the door, refusing to stop kissing her long enough to look at the card reader. She moaned and fumbled to take the card from his hand, and he relinquished it willingly, moving his now-empty hand to the hem of her dress and pulling it slowly upward.

Somehow Brennan managed to get the door open, and they tumbled into the room. Booth locked the door behind them and shrugged out of his shirt and jacket eagerly. He watched her hungrily as she backed away from him on those ridiculously high, _come-fuck-me_ heels, smiling her Roxie smile.

"Come on, Tony. Show me what you got," she purred. Booth grinned predatorily and stalked toward her, crossing the floor in two long strides and bending to sweep her into his arms in a move so quick, Brennan felt slightly dizzy as he lowered her to the bed. He groaned against the flushed skin of her chest, pulling the thin straps of her dress down over her shoulders.

"Oh god," he murmured, releasing her breasts from their confinement and wrapping his lips around a hardened nipple. Brennan moaned, threading her fingers into his hair and moving her hips wantonly against him. Booth lifted his head to speak, "Mmm… Does Roxie wanna be _fucked_?"

" _Yes,"_ Brennan pled. "Please…"

Booth forced himself to peel her dress from her writhing body more slowly than he'd have liked. He didn't want to tear _this_ dress, and he followed its progress with his tongue, worshipping every inch of soft skin he revealed as he removed the garment. When at last the dress had found its place on the floor, Booth whimpered a little at the belated realization that she'd gone completely without a bra, and there was nothing between them but a tiny black thong. _That_ could be torn away, and he accomplished it with one savage yank of the flimsy material.

Brennan trembled beneath him and reached up to pull his wifebeater off, tossing it onto the floor. She pushed the suspenders away and helped him shed his pants and boxers, leaning up to grasp his biceps and pull his full weight on top of her.

" _Now,"_ she begged.

Booth needed no further encouragement, surging into her with one powerful stroke and bottoming out within her. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream, and she gripped his arms tightly enough to leave fingerprint-sized bruises.

"Like that, Roxie?" he panted, withdrawing nearly completely before burying himself once more. Brennan shivered at his words, only slightly surprised at his willingness to roleplay. She knew he'd enjoyed her Wonder Woman costume, but he hadn't called her by a different name that night. She felt her center throb with arousal at his deviance.

"Yeah, Tony," she moaned, leaning up to push her tongue into his mouth provocatively. Booth returned the kiss with persistent dominance, battling almost roughly until she acquiesced somewhat, sucking his tongue into her own mouth in retribution.

Their hips moved in a steady rhythm, slowly increasing until it was all Brennan could do to keep her legs wrapped around his waist. Sensing her struggle, Booth eased his weight off of her slightly and brought both of her knees up toward her chest.

"Ohhh, _fuck_ , baby," he cursed, enjoying the new depth the position provided. The angle change allowed his erection to connect with a particularly sensitive place within her, and it acted like a trigger. Brennan shouted in surprise as her climax rushed upon her unexpectedly, and as the waves of pleasure crested over her, she knew that a second release would follow quickly.

"Come for me," she encouraged him, forcing the words through her clenched teeth. Booth quickened his pace until he was pounding into her relentlessly, chasing his own release as she continued to spasm around him. He cried out as his orgasm collided with hers, and Brennan felt a resurgence of pleasure as one release bled into another.

Booth released her legs back to their original positions, and he collapsed onto her, barely remembering to keep his full weight from crushing her into the mattress. Their chests heaved in synchronized gasps for oxygen, and when at last Brennan was able to focus her eyes properly, she moved a hand to touch his cheek.

"I love you, Booth," she said softly, capturing his gaze with her gleaming blue eyes.

"I love you too, Bones. Always." He smiled, leaning down to kiss her gently. When he lifted his head, she was grinning playfully at him.

"Happy Birthday, _Tony_."

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 **Whew. If only we'd gotten to see** ** _that,_** **right? Okay, so there has been consistent smut in every chapter since chapter 7, and by the time I was writing this one, I started to feel like all they ever do is have sex. (I know some of you don't mind.) So the next few chapters will be more T rated since we have some big drama coming.**

 **Reviews make me smile!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello again! Thank you for all of the feedback. Writers aren't kidding when they say how much of a difference it makes with the motivation!**

 **Special thanks to chosenname for the beta work but particularly for helping me sort out my thoughts on this chapter and the next few. :)**

 **Enjoy and please review if you can!**

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Chapter 15

"What got into you, by the way?" Booth asked, pulling his pants and suspenders back on. "That was amazing!"

"Are you referring to the sex?"

Booth chuckled and gave her a playful wink but shook his head.

"Well, that was amazing too, but I was talking about your acting skills back at the gym. The sexy smiles, the _voice…_ " Booth suppressed a shudder at the memory of how that sultry voice had undone him. He'd very nearly taken her against their rental car in broad daylight.

"It's from when I used to watch old movies with my dad. He really liked Clara Bow," she replied, pulling the tiny straps of her Roxie dress back over her shoulders and feeling rather grateful that the dress had survived their afternoon activities. Booth was clearly partial to the dress, and she wanted to hang on to it.

"Clara Bow was a silent film star," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but...I guess that's how I always imagine she sounded."

"Just like you imagined she carried around a wad of cash?" She turned to find him smirking at her with an elevated brow, and she returned his smile.

"I went to the ATM while you were picking out your undercover wardrobe. Frankie made it sound like the entrance fee for the fight club would be quite a bit more than the FBI would likely be willing to cover."

"Hmm. Well, they'll probably reimburse you. You know, because it's _you_ , Dr. 'I-don't-have-a-limit' Brennan." She rolled her eyes for his benefit and got to work repairing her smudged makeup. Booth watched her quietly for a few moments before he spoke again. Her earlier words had triggered something in his mind. "You know…" Brennan glanced at his reflection in the mirror when he trailed off.

"Yes?"

"We haven't talked much about your dad lately. I mean, as far as the investigation goes," he said hesitantly. They had discussed him very briefly after she'd been forced to shoot Gil Lappin, but that was because she'd been worried she might be a murderer like Max.

"Has something new come up?"

"No, I've still got guys running the usual channels. Forensic accountants are trying to get a lead on him too, but… Max has lived pretty well off the grid for a long time now. I get the feeling we're not gonna find him unless he _wants_ to be found."

"You've said that before," she reminded him, turning her attention back to her eyeliner. "Do you think it's a waste of resources to keep looking?"

"No, Bones, it's not that. The FBI will keep looking whether I have a hand in it or not. I just wanted to make sure you were still as interested in finding him. The way you've talked about him the last few times you've brought him up… Well, it doesn't really sound like you want anything to do with him."

Brennan took a few moments to consider his words, inwardly admitting the truth of them. She honestly didn't know what she wanted to come of their search for her father. If they found him, would he simply run again? Would he leave her all over again? Was she setting herself up for more pain that could be avoided by simply doing as her father requested? She sighed, smoothing a fresh coat of Roxie's red lipstick over her lips.

"I know it would be easier to just… look the other way, I guess… But I have questions only he can answer," she replied sadly. "Even if I only see him again for long enough to ask them…"

"I understand," he assured her. "We'll keep on it. I just wanted to make sure you were still in the same frame of mind about it."

Brennan nodded and began to throw a few odds and ends into a small handbag. Booth smiled fondly as she added a small blacklight, a pair of gloves, and a couple of evidence bags amongst her wallet and lipstick.

 _That's my girl..._

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They left the room a short time later, having gotten the location and password from the eight-hundred number Joe Noland had given them. The 'fight club' was crowded and noisy, and all attention was focused on two male fighters circling each other in the middle of a painted red octagon on the floor.

Back in their undercover personas, Booth and Brennan watched the fight with sympathetic winces, but it was over not long after they nudged their way to the front of the crowd. Booth stiffened slightly as he recognized the man who'd just been laid out with a roundhouse kick to the head, and the fighter spotted him as soon as he was back on his feet. There was no time to warn Brennan before the man addressed him.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

"Not much," Booth answered with his Tony Scallion smirk.

In the next instant, the stranger had punched Booth hard enough to drop him to the concrete floor, and Brennan reacted instinctively, smashing her own fist into the man's already bloodied face. He looked at her in surprise, and she belatedly recalled that they were still undercover.

"Stupid jerk!" she shouted in his face before crouching over her partner. "Hey, Tony! Tony!"

Brennan tried to keep him conscious, but he was struggling. She knew that Booth could take a punch and defend himself perfectly well, so she was baffled as to why he'd allowed the stranger to hit him that hard. The man had walked away, but when Brennan finally got Booth out of the club and back to their hotel, they were met by the same strange man, accompanied by Agent Zhang.

Booth told her to let the two men into their room, and Brennan complied, having accepted the explanation Booth had given her in the car. She gave the unknown man a scowl that felt overprotective, even to her. She understood that Booth had recognized him, but she still wasn't clear on why that meant the man had felt the need to hit her partner. Booth introduced him as Agent Walt Sugarman, whom he had met at Quantico.

"I had no idea we had an agent in there," Agent Zhang told them, watching Brennan hold an ice pack to the side of Booth's head. His eyes zeroed in on the lack of space between the two partners, and his intuition flickered.

"Yeah, I'm on a special RICO assignment, under deep cover about a month, and I still can't crack who's running the show," Walt explained.

"What do you know about Joe Noland?" Booth asked.

"Ah, low level guy, one of many buffers. That eight-hundred number he sells changes with every event, so trying to track is like playing whack-a-mole."

Brennan's fingers closed around Booth's wrist and moved his hand up to his face so that he could hold the ice pack himself. She crossed the room to remove a photo of Billie Morgan from the case file and handed it to Walt.

"Have you ever seen her fight at the club?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah. It's Billie something, right? Yeah, four-to-one underdog. Oh, she _whooped_ this hot Latina pretty good," Walt said with a smirk in Booth's direction. "Though your girl, here, throws a pretty good right hook too."

Booth hadn't been coherent when Brennan had hit Walt, and he looked at her with a furrowed brow, his eyes darting instantly to her swollen knuckles. He motioned for her to come back to him and moved his ice pack from his face to her hand.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Brennan said, a little embarrassed. She hadn't meant to drop her cover, but the sight of someone hitting her boyfriend had sent her own protective instincts into immediate action. "You said she fought a Latina? About 5'6", left-handed?"

Walt confirmed that the woman they'd spotted at Noland's gym was named Marisol and had been defeated by Billie Morgan several weeks ago. Brennan suggested that Billie might have bet the eight thousand dollars on herself and gotten into trouble for doing so. Booth agreed that it was a good possibility, and Agent Zhang promised to track down Marisol for a chat.

Brennan was mentally reviewing the blunt force trauma to Billie's remains and only half-listening to the men as they discussed the status of Walt's investigation. Her full attention was riveted back to the conversation, however, when she heard Booth volunteer to fight Walt the following night.

" _What?_ You said you weren't going to fight, and now you're volunteering?" she argued, keenly aware of their audience. She knew this was a work-related situation, but in that moment she didn't particularly care if she was behaving like an over-reacting girlfriend.

"I volunteered to _throw_ a fight, Bones. He sprained his wrist, needs time to heal. If I can get into the rotation and lose against him, then he can stay and keep working his investigation."

Brennan crossed her arms, understanding his logic but not approving of the plan. The other two men seemed to sense that an argument was brewing and excused themselves politely, telling Booth that they would get in touch with him tomorrow.

Fortunately for Booth, Brennan's phone rang before she could really start arguing with him, and she answered it with a terse "Brennan." It was Hodgins, informing her that the scarab beetles from Mason Roberts' remains had been poisoned as well. However, whereas Billie's cortisone levels had killed her scarabs, Mason's had died from ingesting pine oil resin. Both substances were commonly used to treat certain skin conditions. She thanked him and ended the call, turning her attention back to Booth.

"It'll be fine, Bones. Don't worry so much."

She cocked her head to the side and began a staring contest that actually succeeded in making Booth feel a little intimidated. _She's getting better at this nagging girlfriend thing,_ he mused, feeling it best to keep that particular opinion to himself.

They bickered about the advisability of him getting involved in an illegal fight for over an hour, but eventually Booth convinced her that it was the most likely way to get more insider information.

"That doesn't mean I have to like it," she replied, sniffing disdainfully as they finally climbed into bed.

"I know, baby. It's just one fight, okay? I can handle it."

"I know _that_ ," she grumbled. "I just think it's stupid." Booth grinned in the darkness at the sudden disappearance of her five-dollar words, ignoring the pain in his left temple. Brennan loved to gripe about his overprotective streak, but hers was just as bad when it came to him.

And Booth couldn't help but like it.

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Brennan was irritated but doing her best to cover it. _Wait until we get back to the hotel,_ she reminded herself. Booth had won his fight, but it hadn't been Walt that he'd defeated. The undercover fighter had been pulled at the last minute and replaced with a behemoth of a man who had done his best to beat her partner senseless. If not for Brennan's timely instructions from outside the ring, Booth wouldn't have known how to hit the man where it would do the most damage. In the end, Booth had won, but his injuries had left him in a substantial amount of pain.

Almost immediately after the end of the fight, Brennan received a call confirming that Billie had been killed with the same baseball bat that had killed Mason Roberts. She had also bet a substantial amount of money on herself during her last fight, something that those in charge of the operation did not allow.

Predictably, the young boxer from the gym approached the partners after the fight. He revealed that his name was Nick Arno, and Booth immediately recognized the surname of a local mobster. Nick accused both partners of cheating and informed 'Tony' that after knocking out their best fighter, he would now be expected to fight for them whether he wanted to or not. Nick ordered Joe to take them back to their hotel, and as they approached his vehicle, Brennan noticed the man scratching his arm.

When she asked idly if he had a skin rash, Joe admitted that he suffered from eczema, and she explained to Booth that the cortisone and pine oil could have been used as skin treatments. Booth revealed that he was with the FBI and gave the man just the right kind of encouragement to explain what was really going on. Joe admitted that the mobsters in charge of the fight club had killed both victims and ordered him to clean up their messes. He had been the one to dump the bodies out in the desert, and he agreed to testify against Nick Arno and his father 'Sweet Pete.' Booth contacted Agent Zhang, and the arrests were made before the crowd had even dispersed from the club.

It was late when Booth and Brennan returned to their hotel, and Booth watched a little nervously as his girlfriend pulled another couple of ice packs from the tiny freezer. She had lapsed into silence before they'd even left the club and hadn't said more than two words to him since. He understood her frustration; if this had happened the other way around, he'd be out of his mind right now.

"You can go ahead and say it," he told her, keeping his voice light. She merely raised a quizzical brow and pressed an ice pack to his jaw before helping him to remove his shirts. Her touch was gentler than he'd expected. "'I told you so.' You can say it. You'd be right."

Brennan sighed and pursed her lips, methodically checking each of his ribs for fractures. It was a full minute before she opened her mouth to reply.

"I don't like when you intentionally put yourself into harm's way. Your job is hazardous enough as it is, and a lot of it can't be avoided. But _this_ could have been. You didn't need to fight." Brennan did her best to keep her voice level and quiet, but Booth could see that her emotions were churning beneath the surface.

"You're right."

"You don't need to placate me," she griped.

"I'm not. I'm saying that you were right."

Brennan eyed him skeptically for a moment then helped him out of his pants. He winced and groaned in pain with each movement, and her features softened empathetically.

"You know, arguing with you isn't as satisfying when you concede the point so quickly," she said dryly. Booth's mouth twitched hopefully.

"Sorry, baby. When you're right, you're right. Maybe next time _I'll_ get to be right."

"That's doubtful."

"A guy can dream," he replied, giving her a cautious charm smile. She heaved another sigh and stared back at him for a few moments before returning his grin with a rueful shake of her head. Brennan helped him get comfortable in bed before tending to her own wardrobe change, and Booth watched her remove her red dress appreciatively. She felt his eyes upon her and glanced back at him.

"You're in no condition to be looking at me like that," she snarked.

"Maybe not tonight, but that dress is definitely coming home with us. The black one too."

Brennan chuckled as she stepped into a pair of sleep shorts and one of his old FBI t-shirts. He grinned possessively, loving the sight of her wearing his clothing.

"Maybe I can wear the red one at Christmas," she suggested, slipping between the sheets and switching off the lamp. "I could use the black one for the next formal function at the FBI or the Jeff-"

"No way, Bones. That black dress isn't going anywhere near the dozens of guys I work with who stare at your ass every time you walk around the Hoover. _Or_ any of the stuffed-shirt pervs who hit on you at the museum formals." He tried to keep a note of humor in his voice, but his tone was firm, and he could practically hear her eyes rolling in response.

"We'll see," she hedged, smiling deviously. "I bet Angela would disagree with you." Booth made a noise close to a growl, and Brennan's smile widened, pleased that she could frustrate him in return for the stress he'd caused her that night.

"Angela's just about the last person you should be asking for wardrobe advice."

"You'd better hope I don't tell her you said that."

"You wouldn't."

"You sure?"

"Bones," he whined. "Let's just go to sleep, okay? We have an early flight. You can irritate me some more in the morning."

"Count on it."

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Their flight back to DC was uneventful, with the possible exception of the disturbed stares Booth received from other travelers. His face and knuckles were very bruised, and his movements betrayed the other injuries that were concealed by his clothing. He reflected inwardly at the contrast between taking a commercial flight as a soldier in uniform as opposed to a guy who looked like he'd just lost a barfight. _Take a flight wearing regulation BDUs, and everyone's your buddy_ , he mused. _Board a plane with a punching bag for a head, and everyone thinks you're bad news or just a loser._ At that moment, Brennan threaded her fingers through his and gave him an indulgent smile. He returned it, suddenly feeling much better. _Yeah… Screw them._

When they arrived home, Brennan quickly helped him unload their bags then turned to face him, looking expectant.

"What?"

"We should go out back," she said, smiling pleasantly. Booth glanced toward the back windows, which were obscured by the curtains they'd chosen together when they'd moved in.

"Why's that?"

"Because we left before I could give you your birthday present," she explained promptly.

"But… I thought my birthday present was… you know, the dresses…"

"The experiment in roleplay?" she offered smugly.

"That makes it sound tawdry. No, Bones... It was _hot_." Their mouths curved into matching devious grins, but Brennan pushed forward.

"I agree. But that wasn't what I'd planned to give you, of course. We didn't even know about the case until two days before your birthday. I'd been planning something else entirely."

"And that something is in the backyard?" he asked, still grinning and heading toward the back door. Brennan nodded, following just a step behind him. Booth opened the door and peeked outside, immediately noticing the change. _Wow…_

"Seriously?" he asked her incredulously. "Baby, this is too much. It's _huge_." Brennan rolled her eyes and smirked, pleased at his reaction. Although the hot tub could fit up to eight occupants, Brennan highly doubted it would ever be that populated. She'd opted for a larger model so that Booth would have more options for a comfortable position. As well as... _other_ reasons.

"Well, you gave me the idea, actually."

"When?" Booth couldn't recall ever having suggested that they get a hot tub. He knew how expensive they were, and they certainly had more than enough amenities in their home to keep them very comfortable.

"My birthday. I noticed that you enjoyed the water pressure against your feet, and since I know you have chronic pain in other areas as well, I thought this would be a nice solution. And it's more than big enough for…"

"Other activities?" he grinned mischievously, pulling her into an embrace and doing his best to ignore the twinge in his bruised ribs.

"Yes, well I'll admit that _is_ a nice factor, but…I wanted you to be able to find some comfort," she told him seriously. "In any way you can."

Booth leaned his forehead against hers and allowed himself to get lost in her eyes for a few moments. She smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Thank you, Bones. It means a lot. Not just that you noticed, but that you care so much. I love you, baby."

"I love you too," she replied, leaning up to kiss him once more. "I'm very glad you like it."

"Just one thing… How did it get here?"

"Angela," she said simply.

"Ah. Of course," he nodded, recalling the way she had dodged his question about her before.

"They were supposed to fill it, but it will take a few days to get the chemicals balanced properly. It should be ready before you're healed though. Hopefully it will help that too."

"I can wait," he assured her, guiding her back into the house and up to their room. As soon as they were across the threshold, he had his arms around her, startling her with a deep kiss. Brennan indulged him for a few moments before pulling back.

"Booth, you're injured," she admonished him. He merely smiled, slipping his hands beneath her shirt to caress her back.

"I trust you, Bones. You won't hurt me."

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Parker spent the following weekend with them, and they were able to fulfill a long-overdue request for a visit to the aquarium. Booth watched happily as his son and girlfriend traded facts about the various sea creatures, and he took the opportunity to snap a few photos of them. As he scrolled through them on his camera's LCD screen, he realized that they'd never had family portraits taken. The photographs occupying the numerous frames around their home were all candid photos, and Booth wondered idly if Brennan would be up for a family photo shoot.

"You're turning my kid into a squint, aren't you?" he asked playfully. Parker was entranced by a tank of undulating jellyfish, and Booth took the opportunity to slip his arm around Brennan's waist. The low, dancing light emanating from the various tanks surrounding them somehow made her eyes gleam, as if they were dancing too.

"Would that be such a bad thing?" she retorted with a smirk. He gave her a ghost of a smile before his expression became serious.

"Let me tell you something, Bones. If he ends up turning out like you, I will be the proudest dad ever."

Brennan felt her eyes tear slightly in response to his words, and she had to look away to get a hold on her emotions. He didn't let her move away though, tightening his arm around her and smiling into her wavy tresses.

Parker soon reclaimed their attention, and the little family proceeded to the next set of exhibits, holding hands and laughing together.

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"It'll be our first Thanksgiving in the new house, Bones. We could invite the squints, Russ and his family, Pops…"

"You would want to have a family gathering even without Parker?" Brennan asked.

"Well, obviously I wish he could be here, but this is Rebecca's year. Next year will be mine, so… I'm alright with it. But we should still do something special, even if it's just you and me."

"Okay. I'll call Russ and see if they're available. You can call Hank. I don't know about the others though. I assume they have family plans of their own. It might be a little awkward for Angela and Hodgins too."

"Cause their date went badly?"

"No, because it went well."

"I don't get it."

"I don't really either, but Angela said that it would have been _easier_ if it had gone badly. I think she's just uncomfortable with the possibility that a relationship could end badly and make things uncomfortable at work."

"Well, that makes sense, I guess, but it's a shame. Hodgins is head over heels for her."

"I don't know what that means."

"He's in love with her," Booth rephrased. Brennan raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Did he say that?"

"He doesn't have to. You can just tell, you know? The way he looks at her all the time, especially when he doesn't think anyone's watching him..."

"Hmm. Well I'm pretty sure Angela doesn't know he feels that strongly."

"She doesn't have a clue. Or if she does, she's pretending not to."

Brennan sighed, wondering if she'd somehow given her friend bad advice. Angela had assured her that wasn't the case, but Brennan still doubted. She found herself wishing once more that Angela could find the same kind of happiness she'd found with Booth.

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A few days before Thanksgiving, Booth and Brennan got an early morning call for a rather unusual crime scene. Some local children had partially unearthed some sort of large, silver capsule. After peeking through a small window in the object, they had reported to the police that they'd discovered two 'aliens' inside of a 'spaceship.'

The partners carpooled to the scene, and when they arrived Brennan took a look into the window herself and shook her head a little before offering Booth a chance to see it for himself. He crouched behind her to look over her shoulder.

"Are those what I think they are?"

"Yes. As long as you think they're two adolescent males," she retorted.

"Hmm. How long?"

"The amount of dehydrated tissue suggests the tank is sealed and intact… Years."

"Man. Two kids, huh? I liked it better when they were aliens."

Brennan's eyes followed him solicitously as he walked back toward the law enforcement officer on the scene. She knew how much he struggled with cases involving children. It took a few hours to get everything processed and on its way back to the lab, and Booth returned from the Hoover with an ID much sooner than expected.

"Matthew and Ryan Kent," Booth announced, holding up a photograph of identical twin boys. "Kidnapped October 31, 2001, and no one has seen them since."

Brennan explained that she and Zack had already determined cause of death for one of the boys. One set of remains showed trauma compound fractures to the legs and pelvis, while the other was virtually untouched. The amount of blood in the capsule indicated that at least one of them had bled out, most likely the one with the bone trauma.

"Alright. Well, I've got the agent and the AUSA who were on the case on their way to the Hoover right now," Booth told her. Brennan nodded at his unspoken implication that he wanted her with him for the interview, and as she snapped her gloves off, she spouted a list of instructions to Zack so that he could continue their work in her absence.

"You should call Parker later," Brennan said quietly once they were on their way. Booth nodded, not needing her to elaborate. She was making the suggestion because she knew that cases like this upset him, and she knew that hearing Parker's voice was the perfect remedy. It didn't matter that the twin boys had been quite a bit older than his own son; Booth's heart still ached when the life of a child was lost.

"I will," he replied. Booth reached for her hand and squeezed it gratefully. "Thanks, Bones."

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AUSA Kim Kurland and former Agent Pete Sanders gave the partners a brief explanation of the events surrounding the kidnapping of Matthew and Ryan Kent, and Brennan was disturbed by the images their words conjured in her mind.

The boys had been kidnapped after a teenage party, and although the Kidnap and Rescue had advised the boys' parents to pay the ransom, former Agent Sanders, per FBI guidelines, had advised the opposite. In the end, the Kents decided to follow Sanders' advice, and their sons were never seen again.

"The Kent boys were the Gravedigger's third victims," Kim announced.

"Third of the six victims we know of," Sanders clarified. "All together, four paid the ransom and lived."

"And the other one that didn't?" Brennan asked.

"Never found him," Kim replied

"That's why they call him the Gravedigger. Uh... He takes people and buries them. You pay the ransom, and he tells you how to dig them up. You don't, and uh...you never see them again. You won't catch him," Sanders said bleakly. Booth scowled at the downtrodden expression on Sanders' face.

"All due respect, Agent Sanders, we have the beer vat and the human remains."

"What are two bodies going to tell you that four live people couldn't?" Kim asked, a little surly.

"Dr. Brennan… She's pretty good at making dead people tell her things," Booth answered with quiet pride. Brennan gave him a sidelong glance and a tiny smile, loving his confidence in her abilities.

Neither of the others argued with his assessment, but Sanders suggested that they talk to the Kidnap and Rescue expert who had worked the case. His name was Thomas Vega, and he was regarded as the resident expert on the Gravedigger. Kim agreed and pulled out a hardback copy of the man's book, _Uncovering the Gravedigger_.

Booth felt his distaste for the case raise another degree. Apparently they'd have to deal with another profiteer, like Jesse Kane, and Booth felt no small amount of irritation over it. He called Vega from his office and asked that he come to the Jeffersonian for an interview, knowing that Brennan would want to get back to work as quickly as possible.

"Come on, Bones, we've got an hour before Vega can get to the lab. Let's grab some lunch, okay?"

Brennan wanted to argue about wasting time eating, but it was clear that Booth needed a little 'down time,' as he called it. She settled for calling Zack to check his progress. As they walked into Wong Foo's, Booth held her hand, weaving his fingers through hers, and they spent the majority of the meal talking about everything _except_ the case.

"I talked to Amy briefly this morning," Brennan announced. "Russ is on a fishing trip until Thursday with no cell reception, but she said they already had plans with her family anyway. She suggested they could visit for Christmas though."

"I didn't know your brother fished," Booth replied, taking a bite of his rice.

"He and my dad used to go all the time, but I wasn't aware that Russ still did," she explained simply. "Did you talk to Hank?" The corner of Booth's mouth lifted in response.

"Yeah, he says he'll come as long as you don't make him eat tofu," he teased. Brennan donned an expression of faux annoyance.

"I'd never force anyone to eat vegetarian. Even if it _is_ better for them, and animals, _and_ the environment-"

"Okay, okay, I got it," he interrupted, giving her a full smile that made her stomach flip. "No need to start one of your dietary lessons. I'll handle the turkey." She smiled back at him and leaned in for a quick kiss, ignoring Sid's suspiciously well-timed cough.

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Booth gritted his teeth at Thomas Vega's explanation for leaving the Bureau to become a Kidnap and Rescue expert. It wasn't enough that the guy was profiting from the Gravedigger's crimes, but he apparently had to bash the FBI as well.

"You've dealt with the Gravedigger how many times?" Booth asked.

"In total? Five." It wasn't Vega who answered but rather the young woman who had entered Brennan's office with him. Vega introduced her as Janine O'Connell, a journalist who had helped Vega write his book. As if Booth needed another reason to dislike her. He wasn't fond of journalists in general, but this one had the nerve to flirt with him in the middle of a case like this.

"Journalist, huh?" Booth asked, not attempting to mask his distaste.

"Aww, don't be like that Agent Booth," she replied with a smirk. Brennan cleared her throat loudly. "The Gravedigger is totally consistent. No one ever sees the victim taken. The ransom demand is made using a digitally altered voice. A time limit is given. There's _never_ a second call. As soon as the ransom is paid to a numbered, untraceable account in Bahrain, the Caribbean, et cetera, the GPS coordinates are provided, leading to the victim."

Brennan couldn't decide which was worse: the woman's poor attempt at flirtation with Booth or the way she sounded almost _impressed_ as she described the Gravedigger's modus operandi.

"None of the surviving victims remembers anything before being taken?" Brennan asked her.

"Nothing. Burn marks on the back of the neck suggest the use of a stun gun or cattle prod."

"And that'll scramble your brains pretty good," Vega added. "Also, when you try to trace whatever container the boys were found in, you'll...well, you'll reach a dead end. He gets everything from landfills or cash auctions."

"No last chance to pay up?"

"Never."

"You know," Janine interjected again, "Most kidnappers are caught because they start negotiating the ransom. The Gravedigger simply won't play." Once again, Brennan heard the impressed tone of her voice, and this time, Booth echoed her thoughts.

"Really not looking to help you write another book, you know. ' _Capturing the Gravedigger.'_ " Janine merely stared back at him blandly, but Vega spoke up in response to Booth's sarcastic tone.

"Agent Booth, I have seen what this guy does to families. Up close. You know what, dislike me as much as you want, but I'm still gonna help you because I want this bastard _caught_."

Vega rose from the couch and stalked from the office, Janine hurrying along in his wake. Brennan turned her focus to Booth, feeling that he probably could have been a little nicer to them but opting not to say so. She understood his frustration perfectly well.

Brennan rose from her seat and settled herself onto Booth's lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders supportively. He wound both of his arms around her waist and buried his face against her chest, inhaling deeply. Her perfect, familiar scent soothed him, and he sighed at the slight release of tension.

They remained in place for several minutes, not requiring words to either fill the silence or communicate their feelings in that moment. When at last Brennan felt that she really could put it off no longer, she kissed Booth gently and rose to change into her labcoat.

"I'll pick you up in a couple hours?" Booth asked her, rising from his seat as well and holding her labcoat as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. She answered in the affirmative and kissed him one more time before heading to the platform.

Booth watched her work for a few minutes before heading back to his office, already wishing for the case to be over.

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Brennan woke early the following morning, determined to get a head start on her day since she had a karate class scheduled that evening. Booth watched from their bed as she dressed in a pair of black slacks and a deep red, button-down top.

"You want me to pick up some dinner on my way home from karate tonight?" she asked, inserting her silver earrings while she gazed at him in the mirror.

"Uh… No, how about I meet you at the diner when you're done?"

"That's fine," she agreed. Brennan bent over the edge of the bed to kiss him goodbye, and Booth resisted the urge to pull her on top of him and undo all of those buttons she'd just closed.

"I'll see you later. We're still meeting with the victims' father this morning, right?"

"Yeah, he's coming to the Hoover," Booth replied sadly. Informing parents of a dead child was never easy or simple.

"Alright. We'll touch base on the evidence then," Brennan said, kissing him just once more because she hated the wistful look on his face. "I love you, Booth."

"I love you too. Be careful."

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As soon as Brennan got to the lab, she began the process of reviewing Zack's findings. He had catalogued the anomalies on each set of remains, and Brennan was slightly surprised and a little sickened to discover that the stun gun the Gravedigger had used on Matthew Kent had actually left burns on the vertebrae. She instructed him to request the medical exam results of the surviving victims so that they could compare the wounds and find out if the Gravedigger had used the same stun gun each time.

Hodgins stepped onto the platform almost as soon as Zack left, and he reported trace evidence that indicated the boys had most likely been abducted from an underground parking structure. Brennan ignored the chill that swept over her body and asked him to compare his findings with the analyses of the clothing from the other victims.

"And measure oxygen volume in the vat. Find out how long the twins survived," she suggested.

"I'm on it," Hodgins assured her. He headed back to his office, waving a greeting in Booth's direction, who had just come through the glass doors.

"I thought I was meeting you there," Brennan said in confusion.

"I know, but I felt like picking you up," he said simply. "You ready?"

"Sure, I'll grab my jacket."

Brennan gave him an update on the evidence in the SUV, and when they arrived at the Hoover, James Kent was waiting for them in a conference room. To Booth's displeasure, the man was accompanied by Thomas Vega. Brennan listened passively as Booth and AUSA Kurland discussed the case with the victims' father, and it was clear that James Kent was shouldering an enormous amount of guilt for not listening to Vega's advice that he pay the ransom. As he spoke, Brennan received a text from Hodgins and read the information quickly before flashing the screen toward Booth.

"God, there's no way they deserved suffocation," the man said brokenly. "Is it...painful?"

"Like falling asleep," Brennan reassured him kindly. "Mr. Kent… The Gravedigger lied to you and the FBI."

"That's unlikely. He doesn't play games," Vega argued. Brennan ignored him and kept her focus on Kent.

"Mr. Kent, is there any way you could have put together the ransom in _twelve_ hours?"

"No way in the world."

"Which is exactly why the Gravedigger provided Mr. Kent with _twenty-four_ hours," Vega insisted. Booth cut in, feeling a little perturbed at his attitude.

"His sons only had enough air for twelve hours," he informed Vega. Booth softened his voice a little and addressed Kent. "Even if you had ignored the FBI and listened to Mr. Vega, you still wouldn't have been able to save your sons."

"You're backstopping for the Bureau," Vega argued, unwilling to believe that he'd been wrong.

"There were two of them in that vat; they used up their oxygen twice as fast. The Gravedigger miscalculated."

"No, he doesn't do that," Vega said heatedly. But the rest of the group had stopped listening to him.

"So my decision to listen to the FBI… to not pay the ransom…"

"If you'd paid the ransom, your sons would still have been dead by the time you got to them," Brennan assured him.

"There is _nothing_ you could have done, Mr. Kent. You are in no way responsible for the deaths of your sons."

Brennan glanced at Booth as he spoke the words that would hopefully free this man of his guilt. If anyone knew the cost of carrying a burden like that, it was Booth, and Brennan couldn't resist the urge to place her hand on his leg beneath the table. She felt his hand cover hers almost immediately, and they stayed connected for the rest of the interview, each silently offering support to the other.

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As Booth drove her back to the lab, Brennan observed him quietly from the passenger seat. She noticed that he was fiddling with his St. Christopher medal, and she wished that she had a better understanding of his logic when it came to religion. As usual when Brennan encountered something she didn't comprehend, she sought the most direct course of correcting the situation.

"Can I come to church with you?" she asked abruptly. Booth glanced at her, startled and confused.

"Where did that come from?"

"You're clearly having a difficult time, and your faith is one of the things you rely on to get you through difficult times…"

"And you," he added with a soft smile. Brennan returned it but was undeterred.

"Yes, but… I feel as though I don't understand your rationale for your beliefs. I've studied all of the major religions, as well as a number of minor ones, but applying that knowledge to my knowledge of you is still difficult," she explained.

Booth's forehead wrinkled in surprise, and he wondered if she realized the implication of what she was saying. It was perhaps one of the most profound things she could do for him. She was willing to suspend her disbelief for long enough to consider his point of view so that she could help him when he needed it most. Her selflessness humbled him.

"I wouldn't mind if you really wanted to come with me, Bones, but there's no need for you to sit through a church service listening to things you don't agree with. You can always ask me whatever you want to know. I'll do my best to answer anything. Since your motive is to understand me better, it might make more sense to just have a good long talk about it."

"I understand, Booth. You're right; that does seem more practical."

They shared a smile, and Booth sent up a quick prayer of thanks that she loved him enough to try so hard to understand him.

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 **I get a little snarky when it comes to Booth hating reporters, hehe. Can't imagine why. So I changed that last scene quite a bit... I could have just left it out I suppose, but the fact that she wanted to understand him better seemed to pretty much go over Booth's head in the show. He didn't realize what a big step that was for her, as an atheist and a scientist, to be willing to put herself in that scenario just to know him better. My Booth is smarter. :) I also didn't see my Brennan volunteering her man to fight or letting the UC agent punch Booth without slugging him back.**

 **Don't lurk, tell me what you thought, even if it's just a couple of words! :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks so much for all of the great feedback so far. Not much to say here except read and enjoy. :)**

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Chapter 16

Later that afternoon, Booth and AUSA Kim Kurland oversaw the transport of the four containers that had previously been used by the Gravedigger to bury his victims alive. The containers were carted into the lab and lined up next to the platform, and Kim had also been able to provide the clothing from each victim. The containers ranged from a deep freezer to an actual _coffin_ , and Hodgins found the same traces of engine exhaust on each set of clothing.

"We know each victim was taken from an underground garage, beyond the reach of security cameras," Brennan reminded the rest of the group. She and Booth exchanged a loaded glance, and he repressed a shudder at the memory of her abduction just a few months ago.

"The typical kidnap-for-ransom profile is middle aged, in a job that's beneath him-"

"Smart guy who's an underachiever, and someone who enjoys control over somebody else's life," Booth interrupted her. "There's just one problem."

"What's that?"

"There's nothing _typical_ about this guy. Don't expect him to fit the profile."

Kim pursed her lips but didn't argue with Booth's assessment. After she left the lab, Booth and Brennan met with Angela to see what she'd come up with in her efforts to simulate possible causes for Ryan's bone trauma. She had determined that it would have been impossible for Matthew to have fractured his brother's pelvis and leg within the confines of the vat.

"Alright, so you're saying that Ryan was injured before he went into the vat," Booth concluded.

"Yes," Brennan agreed. "But the amount of blood on the floor can't be explained by his injuries alone." She watched Booth's expression change as he processed the information, and his eyes suddenly became brighter with new understanding. "What?" she pressed.

"It was a mistake."

"What was?" Angela asked, feeling a little lost.

"Look, he intended to take one boy, but he ended up with two."

A look of comprehension dawned on both of their faces, and Angela couldn't help but feel a bit left out.

"Ah, that's why they died twelve hours ahead of schedule," Brennan surmised.

"If he'd intended to take two boys, he would have put them in a container twice as big. The Gravedigger messed up. He snuck up on Matthew, knocked him unconscious, whatever, and uh… Ryan was there… He shows up, and he fought the guy."

"No, Booth. Not fight," Brennan insisted. Angela was on the same page now and spoke up.

"The leg damage, the fractured pelvis…"

"These injuries are classic _human versus car_ ," Brennan explained. The image in Booth's mind shifted.

"Ryan interrupts the kidnapping of his brother-"

"And the Gravedigger runs him down," Brennan completed.

They thanked Angela and made their way back to Brennan's office, closing the door as well as the blinds once they were alone.

"You okay?" Booth asked, folding Brennan into his arms. She buried her face against his chest for a moment before answering shakily.

"Yeah. It's just easy to picture…"

"I know." They held each other silently for a few moments before he spoke again. "You sure you don't want to just head home early? We could take the afternoon off… Lay in bed, eat takeout, watch a movie."

"Eat takeout in bed?" she asked with a chuckle, leaning back to meet his dark eyes.

"Sure. I'd even let you pick the movie," he added. Booth knew there was no chance of convincing her to leave work at three in the afternoon, but he needed a different mental image than the one their investigation had planted in his head.

"We could always do that on Thursday instead of cooking dinner, you know."

"Hmm," he mused, kissing her softly. "Not sure I'm okay with Pops being in our bed, but it's an idea." She laughed at his joke, and Booth smiled at the sound, allowing it to soothe his frayed nerves.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

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As tempting as Booth's offer had been, Brennan was determined to make it to her karate class that night. It was one of the few things she'd been able to do in the last few months that made her feel strong again. She carefully checked the contents of her bag and waved a quick goodbye to Angela as they passed one another.

Brennan choked back her anxiety and kept a steady pace through the Jeffersonian's hallways and into the parking structure, forcing her eyes to remain on her destination. She unlocked her vehicle with the key fob and was on the verge of opening the driver's side door when she heard footsteps approaching quickly from her right. Before Brennan was able to get a good look at her assailant, she felt a burning shock to the back of her neck, and she was immediately rendered unconscious, dropping to the pavement like a stone.

Hodgins had rushed out of the lab in an effort to catch Brennan before she left so that he could report his findings about the stun gun the Gravedigger had used, but when he approached her car, the sight of her lying on the ground set his pulse racing. He held his bag tighter against his shoulder and sprinted across the empty parking spaces toward her, but as he crossed into the open lane, he was struck head on by another car, collapsing to the ground in a heap.

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Booth sat at the diner a couple of hours later that evening, expecting Brennan to come through the doorway at any moment. He hadn't ordered his full meal yet, but he'd asked the waitress to bring an order of fries, knowing that once Brennan arrived, he probably wouldn't get many from his own plate. Booth glanced at his watch for the third time, wondering if her karate class had run late, and when the bell tinkled at the front door, his eyes darted toward it expectantly. It was not Brennan, however, but Cam, and she made her way to his table with a smile on her face, taking the seat opposite him.

"No Dr. Brennan tonight?" she asked in surprise.

"She should be on her way. She had karate tonight," he explained.

"Ah. You know, I meant to ask you last week… How did you do in Vegas?"

"Well, I got the shit beat out of me, but I thought you already knew that," he replied, laughing sardonically. Cam winced sympathetically and shook her head.

"No, I actually meant how'd you do at the tables?"

"Oh…" Booth looked surprised and realized at that point just how long it had been since he and Cam had really talked. "I quit gambling a little over two years ago, Cam. When I met Bones. I worked the program, and I managed just fine on the Vegas case."

"Wow. I had no idea. I mean, I'm glad to hear it, and I'm really proud of you… Why didn't you tell me before?" Cam's brow furrowed slightly at the reminder of how much she'd been missing her old friend. Apparently quite a lot had happened in his life since the last time they'd had a good long talk, and she couldn't help but feel a little sad that she was just now hearing about it.

"No reason, it just never came up, I guess. It was hard at first, but… Having Bones and Parker make fighting it a lot easier," he replied. Cam smiled for his happiness but still felt a bit wistful. She had been one of his few friends who had suggested at one point or another that he might have a gambling problem. He'd always assured her that it was never a _problem_ , and Cam had backed off. It seemed that meeting Brennan had been enough to open his eyes.

"That's great, Seeley. It really is. I'm glad you're happy and that things are coming together for you."

"Thanks, Camille," he said with a genuine smile, and for once neither of them thought to correct the other on the use of their given names.

"I have to say, I… I miss our talks. When I took this job, I'd hoped that we'd be able to see more of each other. In a platonic way, of course," she assured him. Booth's phone rang from inside his pocket, but he let it go to voicemail, feeling a little guilty as he listened to his friend tell him she'd been missing him. "We used to be really close, and I… I miss that, I guess. I don't really know anyone in DC, outside of work…"

"I'm sorry, Cam. I never meant to make you feel that way," Booth insisted. "It's been pretty crazy the last few months. With Rebecca and Parker, and Bones recovering from her kidnapping… But hey, we can change that, right? Maybe make sure we have lunch once a week or something?"

Cam nodded and smiled but was distracted by the call he'd missed. She'd noticed his slightly anxious behavior when she'd walked in, and she knew it was possible the call had been from Brennan.

"Don't you want to check that?" she asked, gesturing to his pocket. Booth nodded and dialed his voicemail to listen to the message.

Cam watched his expression harden, and he put the phone on speaker so that she could hear the message as well. A robotic sounding voice emanated from the small device, and Cam's mouth went suddenly dry as she heard the words.

" _Temperance Brennan and Jack Hodgins have been buried alive. Wire transfer eight million dollars to the following Grand Cayman account or they will suffocate to death. 2016845, account number 5698237. You have twenty-four hours. Upon receipt of the wire transfer, I will provide you Brennan and Hodgins' GPS coordinates. This will be my last communication."_

They sat in stunned silence for the space of one heartbeat before Booth was in motion. He practically sprinted toward the door, and Cam was right on his heels.

"Call everyone back to the lab. I'm going to the Hoover to report it, then I'll be there."

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If Cam replied, he didn't hear her or process her words. Booth was behind the wheel of his SUV in seconds, flipping the lights and siren on and speeding toward the Hoover. His pulse had skyrocketed from the moment he'd heard that cold, metallic voice pronounce her name, and even now, he was shaking with anxiety as he made the necessary turns that would bring him to his office building. His phone was already in his hand again, calling Kim Kurland, Thomas Vega, and Cullen with the news. As luck would have it, they were all in the building already, and Booth parked on the street, leaving the lights on but killing the siren. He raced into the building and up to the conference room where the others were waiting, and he replayed the voicemail while he caught his breath.

When the message ended, Booth could hear the others speaking as though from the opposite end of a long tunnel, and he struggled to focus through his panic. He brought a hand to his mouth reflexively, feeling sick to his stomach. _This can't be happening… again._

"He learned from the Kent boys," Kim said, "He's got two of them; he cut the deadline in half."

"Why is the Gravedigger demanding so much money?" Vega asked in confusion. "It doesn't make any sense."

Booth resisted the urge to growl at the man as he asked with a rather arrogant expression whether or not Brennan had made that much money from her books. He calmly explained that the exorbitant amount was most likely requested due to Hodgins and his connection to the Cantilever group. Janine, who had tagged along with Vega, quickly explained what that was.

"Make sense now, Tom?" Booth snarled. No one replied, and Booth couldn't stand to be in the room with them any longer. The squints would find the answers, and the squints were at the lab. So that's where he needed to be.

As he returned to his vehicle, he turned on the siren once more and made his way to the Jeffersonian quickly, murmuring distracted snippets of prayer interspersed with her name.

 _This can't be happening._

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"Oh God…"

Brennan woke to a hot pain on the back of her neck, and as she moved cautiously, the pain radiated down her spine and into her limbs. There was muffled music playing somewhere close, and she wrenched her eyes open with a moan. She was in the driver's seat of an unfamiliar car, with only the lights from the control panel and the radio illuminating the darkness. Brennan tried to stay calm, using her hand to wipe the condensation from the window in an attempt to see outside.

"What… what happened? Where am I?" she whispered the words in confusion, not truly realizing she'd said them out loud. Brennan cautiously touched the back of her neck, feeling two distinct burn marks. _What happened?_ She felt around in the darkness for a dome light and switched it on when she located it.

Her Blackberry sat in pieces on the seat next to her, and her messenger bag was on the floorboard. Brennan's hand went instinctively to the door handle, but no amount of pushing or yelling at it would make it budge. She tried the window next and cried out in shock when an avalanche of dirt and gravel poured through the opening and onto her lap. Brennan rolled the window up quickly, cringing a little at the high-pitched grinding sound of the glass against the rocks. She was breathing heavily, her panic mounting as she made the connections in her mind. The windshield in front of her displayed a solid wall of dirt.

 _I was tased. I'm underground…_

Her anxiety grew exponentially as her mind was assaulted with memories. On a lower level of consciousness, Brennan knew that she needed to control her breathing and that she had a limited amount of oxygen, but she began to hyperventilate a little anyway. Brennan turned off the radio, irritated at the distraction of the music, and she worked to calm herself down.

A masculine groan from the back seat startled her, and her eyes widened to see Hodgins, laying sideways against one of the back doors and slowly regaining consciousness.

"Hodgins!"

Brennan felt her breathing slow, the panic receding slightly at the knowledge that she wasn't alone. She climbed over the back seat to sit next to him.

"Hodgins, are you alright? Can you talk?"

His eyes squinted open in confusion, and Brennan's hand fell unwittingly to his leg. She gasped at the moisture she felt there, pulling her hand back to see blood and an injury that looked extremely painful.

"Your legs… What happened to your legs?"

"Where are we?" Hodgins whispered, disoriented.

"We're buried alive," Brennan told him, her eyes filling with tears. "He must've got us."

"Who?"

"The Gravedigger."

They fell silent as they each tried to run their minds back through the events that had brought them there, and Brennan looked down at his leg again, examining it with a more professional eye. It was a compound fracture, but the more pressing concern was the amount of blood he was losing. Her mind cleared a little more as it settled on a task. _First aid,_ she thought swiftly, reaching back into the front seat for her shoulder bag. She'd made a habit of carrying a small first aid kit with her into the field, and she pulled it out quickly and got to work.

"I was on my way to karate class, so we have lots of bottled water."

"What happened?" Hodgins gasped, breathing heavily through the pain. "Where are we?"

"Last thing I remember is being at the lab."

"I'm really confused; what happened to my legs? _Where_ are we?" He blinked spastically, trying to make sense of the jumbled images in his mind.

"Underground. Buried. I have a burn…" she moved her hair aside to show him the wound.

"Zack was trying to figure out what kind of stun gun…"

"It has to be the Gravedigger. I think he ran you down with his car and then pumped you full of drugs to ruin your short-term memory. Same as Ryan Kent," she explained. Hodgins' respirations became a little more ragged, and the worry in his expression increased.

"How long have we been down here?"

"Um…" she looked at her watch, trying to remember what time she'd left the lab. "It would be two hours, I think?"

"Okay, so this vehicle is six...sixty…" He winced in pain and frustration. "Sixty cubic feet of air, uh… it's just twenty percent oxygen… two people… My brain is not _working_ ," he whined.

"The Gravedigger is very consistent. If we started with twelve hours of air, we'll be unconscious in ten. After that, if… if no one pays the ransom…" she trailed off, a tear rolling down her dusty cheek.

"We're dead," he finished. She nodded, trembling and trying to hold it together. Brennan tried to tell herself that this situation could have been worse. She could have been alone. At least this time, she had light… And company. At that thought, she instantly felt a rush of guilt. How could she be happy that anyone else was in this situation with her? _What's wrong with me?_

Brennan shook her head and tried to focus. Hodgins leg was bandaged, but there had to be something they could do…

 _Supplies,_ she told herself. _Inventory our supplies._

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When Booth arrived at the lab, he found the squints standing in a circle, completing one another's sentences and doing their best to posit the most likely chain of events. Booth joined them, and the discussion quickly led them to the parking structure. In the back of his mind, Booth had already known it, but when they went to investigate the area and found blood on the ground just a few feet from Brennan's car, his gut wrenched painfully.

She'd been taken from the same parking garage, not all that far from where she'd been abducted the last time. The guilt threatened to consume him in that moment. Booth wanted to scream, to hit something, to _shoot_ something… But he knew that none of those things would help Brennan, so he forced himself to slow his panicked heart and focus. _If she were here, what would she do?_ Angela seemed to echo his thoughts.

"God, what are we gonna do?" Her voice was higher-pitched than usual and strained with emotion.

"Well, it's a crime scene. They'll look for tire tracks, they'll check security cameras…" Booth grimaced, wishing they had more than just their team and the FBI forensic team. An army would've been nice. They agreed that Zack would keep searching the bones for clues, and Cam would check Hodgins' notes to figure out why he'd been coming to talk to Brennan. He'd obviously interrupted her kidnapping and been struck by a car, just like Matthew and Ryan Kent.

"What about me?" Angela asked. "Hodgins doesn't have any family, but should I call Brennan's brother, or…?"

"Russ is on a fishing trip, won't be back until Thursday. No cell reception," Booth answered quickly. "How about you coordinate with the FBI to start reviewing the security footage, okay?"

Angela nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes before following Zack back to the lab, and Booth headed back to his SUV, intent on tracking down the head of the Cantilever group. If they could just get the ransom paid, Brennan and Hodgins would live…

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Brennan surveyed the items on the passenger seat next to her and did her best to stay focused. _Panicking will only make this worse_ , she told herself. She wondered if Booth had received the phone call yet, and her chest ached at the way she knew he must be feeling. She didn't doubt that he was the one who got the call. Hodgins didn't have any family that she knew of, and Booth was listed as her next of kin in all of her medical records and financial documents. Brennan kept picturing the sickened expression he'd been wearing when they'd discussed how the Kent boys had disappeared, and she knew that he would be feeling guilty right now whether there was a logical reason for it or not.

"We have water, towels, my mini kit, ibuprofen, two cell phones with no batteries, a digital camera with a backup battery, and uh…a handful of pens," she concluded, holding them up over the seat for Hodgins to see.

"That one's a laser pointer," he corrected, trying to keep his voice light.

"And a copy of my novel," she added, holding up a hardback volume of _Bred in the Bone_ with a tense smile. Hodgins returned it and joked that they could read it to each other if they got bored. Brennan placed it back on the seat and spotted a small fabric pouch. She opened it and pulled out a bottle of perfume.

"Careful," Hodgins said, watching her. "That's three grand per quarter ounce." He winced and looked like he might be biting his tongue.

"Yeah, I'd make that face too, if I'd spent three thousand dollars on perfume." Like him, she was trying to keep things light, but he gasped in pain, sitting up to examine his leg.

"Oh man… Something… My leg…"

"Here," she said, opening the bottle of ibuprofen quickly and shaking out a few pills. It wouldn't help much, but it was something. "Here." She handed him the pills and a bottle of water and said, "I'm worried you have compartment syndrome."

"Is that terminal? I mean, within the next few hours?"

"No…" She gazed back at him nervously.

"But?"

"It's gonna be painful."

"More painful than now?"

"Yeah… Slip into shock and die painful," she said quietly.

"Well… There's nothing we can do about that," he replied, forcing a smile.

"Actually there is." She didn't want to do it… She cringed at even the _thought_ of it.

"Oh, I'm not gonna like this, am I?"

Brennan shook her head but forced her eyes away from his to check through their inventory again. She would need something very sharp, but another search of the vehicle and their belongings yielded only a moderately sharp pocket knife. It would have to do.

Hodgins ripped a page from the front of her novel and wrote something on it, shoving it in his pocket before pushing his injured leg between the front seats to stabilize it.

"Was that a note to Angela?" she asked sadly.

"Yes. Just in case… that whatever you're gonna do to me sends me into shock… I might die," he said between clenched teeth. "Upside? Me not breathing doubles your survival time." Brennan felt suddenly cold at the thought of being alone in the car, of being pulled to safety and watching his body being removed after her.

"I'm not interested in surviving that way." She looked down at his leg and used the knife to open the seam of his pants. "What I'm going to do is make a long incision in the fascia to release the pressure inside. It's best if I do it very fast and without empathy. Here," she said, handing him the black belt from her gee so that he could put it in his mouth. "Hang on to something, and don't fight passing out."

Before she could make the cut, however, she spotted something in the wound. Brennan removed it carefully and suggested they worry about it later. He handed her the copy of her book and told her to put it between the pages so that he could look at it later, and as she did so, she felt her heart beating thunderously with anxiety.

 _What if this kills him? What if I don't release the pressure and he goes into shock? What if no one comes for us and we both die anyway?_

Brennan gave herself a mental shake and wiped the tears from her eyes forcefully. _We're not going to die, because Booth will come. Booth always comes._ As she listened to Hodgins declare his love for Angela simply so that he had said the words out loud, she was overwhelmed with a longing to feel Booth's arms around her again. To be able to say 'I love you' just one more time.

As she made the long incision in Hodgins' leg, she gritted her teeth at the amount of blood she released, trying not to look at his face as he screamed into the gag. He screamed and writhed until at last he slipped into unconsciousness, and a single thought ran on a loop through Brennan's mind as she tended the wound she'd created.

 _Booth will come._

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Booth glared at the countdown clock someone had put up on a monitor as he watched the numbers tick slowly toward zero. He cursed inwardly again, replaying the events of the last few hours in his mind. When he'd finally tracked down the chairman of the Cantilever group, Booth had damn near given the man cause to press charges for assault.

"I can't get the ransom together, not in time," he told Cam, cradling his head in his hands as he stood at the railing of the lounge. He had to force himself not to pull his own hair as he continued, "The Cantilever Group has got this policy… No proof of life from the kidnapper: no ransom."

"Not even for the boss?" she asked incredulously.

"It's _his_ rule, no exceptions. I'd say we need more time, but the Gravedigger doesn't give us that. Or proof of life," he answered bitterly. Cam watched his shoulders tremble and forced herself to voice the thought that had been plaguing her for hours.

"Booth, I don't think it's a coincidence that he took Brennan when he did."

"Yeah," Booth said grimly. "I was thinking the same thing."

In that moment, Cam was reminded that they were both cops at heart, and she knew that she didn't have to explain her statement. It was fairly simple.

 _Someone involved in the investigation either reported to the Gravedigger or buried their friends himself._

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Brennan tried not to look at her watch after Hodgins had passed out. The loss of having another person to talk to weighed heavily on her thoughts, and she couldn't seem to stop her hands from shaking. Actually, if she were being honest with herself, it was her _whole body_ that shook. She trembled from her chest outward with each numbered breath she took, trying to think of anything but the time that was passing.

After a little while, she chastised herself for not trying to come up with a solution to their problem. It occurred to her that the fact that an FM radio station could be received from where they were, they might be able to send a text message from one of their phones if she could find a way to power the device. She had never hotwired anything, but as she examined the inner workings of the horn, she could see that it shouldn't be all that difficult.

Hodgins woke with a start a short while later when she accidentally honked the horn, and he claimed that his leg felt much better. Brennan breathed a shallow sigh of relief, simply glad that she hadn't killed him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, trying to see over the seat.

"Hotwiring the phone to the horn so we can send a message."

"From underground?"

"We get radio reception," she reminded him.

"Direct current 12 volt will burn out the circuits in a 4.2 volt cell phone in a microsecond. Better jerry-rig a resistor."

"Smart," she replied with a tiny smile.

"Might work long enough to send out a single burst transmission."

"Very short text message. Booth can trace it to a cell phone relay tower."

"What message should we send? Goodbye? Nice to know you?" he asked sarcastically. Brennan suppressed the desire to roll her eyes.

"What are we surrounded by?"

"Pain. Despair… And a subsoil accumulation of agglutinate aridisols…"

"Dirt," Brennan supplied.

"I don't like the term 'dirt,'" he complained in typical fashion. The familiarity of his argument made her smile genuinely, and she scooped up a handful of the dirt that had fallen through the window when she'd tried to open it.

"Tell me something I don't know," she said, trying to smile reassuringly as she dumped the dirt into his hand. He examined it closely, smelling it, spitting into his hand, and he declared that they were in coal country. Most likely Virginia.

"We need more than that."

"The laser," he said suddenly, gesturing toward the front passenger seat. "And we need benzophenone."

Brennan listed the most likely products to contain benzophenone, and the only thing they had that could even come close was Angela's perfume.

" _Three grand,_ that costs."

"Hodings, I will split the difference with you when we get out of here," she retorted. He didn't answer for a moment, recalling how much he'd resisted letting her know about his financial status.

"There's something you don't know about me. I'm rich."

"Me too," Brennan replied. _For all the good it's doing us right now,_ she thought.

"No. No, you're well off. My family owns The Cantilever Group, and there's not many of us left alive. One to be exact. _Me._ "

"Okay, I _won't_ split it with you."

Hodgins raised his eyebrows in surprise at her lack of reaction, realizing now that he'd really had no reason to be concerned that she might treat him differently. Brennan simply didn't consider people that way, and Hodgins felt foolish for having been so worried about it. He smiled at her as she removed the stopper of the perfume bottle with a tiny _pop_ and lifted it to her nose.

"Smells nice," she commended him. He smiled a little wider and asked her to pass him the camera. Brennan aimed the laser pointer at his hand, and he looked through the viewfinder, zooming in so that he could analyze in better detail. After a moment, he looked up at her with a surprised expression.

"I know where we are."

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Booth had left the lab shortly after his conversation with Cam, unable to stomach the sight of the ticking clock any longer. He called Vega and asked him to meet him at his office, not giving a damn what time it was. Booth's gut was telling him that Cam had been right: someone on the inside was feeding information to the Gravedigger. Or perhaps even worse: someone on the inside _was_ the Gravedigger.

Vega seemed the most likely culprit. After all, he had made money by writing a book on the son of a bitch, and having a role as a Kidnap and Rescue expert might satisfy some sick urge to witness the devastation he'd caused up close. When the man arrived, however, Booth found himself unable to stomach the man's arrogant attitude.

"There's no negotiating with the Gravedigger," he told Booth in a smooth voice. Booth buried his face in his hands for a moment, doing his best to stop them from shaking, and he had his back turned to Vega.

"You've been through this, what, five times with this guy?" Booth asked, trying to control his expression before turning to face the man.

"Exactly. So I know him, and he does _not_ negotiate."

"Oh, what, no chat room action with him?"

"Are you _nuts_? I hate the son of a bitch," Vega replied, somehow managing to smirk as he said the words.

"Why? He's made you rich," Booth countered. Vega stepped closer to stand within a foot of the agent.

"You know what? You need to deal with the facts. That if you can't put the ransom together in the time he gave you, your partner is _dead_."

And just like that, Booth had had enough. He felt his anger, which had been coiled so tightly in his chest, burst free without his permission. He seized Vega by the neck and shoulder, lifted him bodily, and shoved him flat onto the table near the door. Vega struggled against the hand that Booth kept in place at his throat.

"Here's the deal, alright? You have a relationship with this guy, what they call _symbiotic_ ," Booth told him, his stomach turning at the thought that Brennan would be pleased at his use of the word. "You benefit from each other. So know this. That deadline comes around, and my partner is still underground? _I will end you._ You understand?" Vega released a choked gasp, and Booth pulled him up, noting the purple tint of his skin with vindictive satisfaction. "Yeah? Three hours to live." He pushed Vega forcefully from his office. "Better hurry."

Vega stumbled away without looking back, clutching at his throat. Booth collapsed into his chair and buried his face in his hands again, checking his watch for what must have been the thousandth time since that horrific phone call. He worked his anger slowly back to a manageable level, but his anxiety rose back up in its place, sending the contents of his stomach into his office trash can.

When at last the heaving subsided, he wiped the moisture from his eyes and tried to pull himself together. This was worse than when she'd been taken by Peter. At least they'd had ways to figure out where she was, and even if Max hadn't called, Booth was fairly sure that they would've found her eventually. He wouldn't have given up. There was a good chance that she'd have still been alive when they finally found her - Max had just given them exponentially better odds.

Now, however, no one seemed to know what to do, and he was losing it. Booth could feel himself coming apart at the seams, trying futilely not to imagine his life without her. How would he tell Russ what had happened? Or _Parker?_ How would he go home alone to their empty house?

Booth resisted the urge to roar in frustration at his own weakness. She was counting on him to work a miracle and find her before time ran out, and he hated not knowing how to help her. _There has to be something else, something we've missed,_ he thought, standing up to pace his office floor. _She's counting on me…_

And he refused to fail her again.

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Hodgins had determined that the evidence Brennan had pulled from his leg was a piece of a bumper sticker, confirming that he had indeed been hit by a car. Brennan reminded him that they'd already known that, and studied her hotwired handiwork.

"Four to six seconds to enter a message and hit the speed dial."

"I've figured out a text message using only eight key strikes," Hodgins told her, volunteering to type and send the text. She handed him the phone gingerly and honked the horn while he keyed in the message. As she'd predicted, the phone sparked and sizzled after only a few seconds.

"Oh! Did it go?" she asked hopefully.

"I _think_ it went."

"Me too," Brennan agreed, though she realized she really had no idea whether the message had sent or not. "Now it's up to Booth?"

"It's up to all of them. Zack is probably going to be the only one who will be able to understand what I sent. But Booth knows what to do," he assured her. Hodgins watched her pained expression, knowing that Brennan was every bit as terrified as he was. He found himself feeling slightly envious of her, however.

At least the person she loved _knew_ that she loved him.

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Booth sprinted into the lab as fast as his long legs would carry him and shouted at the squints to get their asses to the platform. They gathered quickly, and he held out his phone so that they could read the text he'd received from Brennan only minutes ago.

 _: 6 7 16 M1.4_

He had cursed loudly when he'd read the message, and he'd caught himself wishing that for once Brennan could just speak English. But a half-second later, he'd realized that the message wasn't just for him, and in the next heartbeat he'd been on his way back to the lab.

"Does it mean anything to anybody?" he asked frantically.

"They're running low on oxygen," Cam reasoned gently.

"Hypoxia leads to mental confusion," Zack stated.

"It's _Bones_. It means _something._ "

"Did you try just dialing the number?" Angela suggested.

"I _tried_ all the dumb guy, normal stuff," he shouted. "Okay? That's why I'm here talking to the Brain Trust. Think, Eggheads! Work it!"

"Booth, they're not cops!"

"We're running out of time!"

"Minor correction," Zack said, looking ill. "Dr. Brennan and Hodgins run out of air in… four seconds." No one spoke as the clock ticked down to zero. "We _are_ out of time."

Booth's legs seemed to collapse beneath his weight, and he fell to the floor clumsily, holding his head in his hands. Hot tears overflowed and streamed over his cheeks, hidden behind his folded hands as he prayed for a miracle. There was a rushing sound in his ears, and though he heard Cam talking to him, he couldn't process her actual words. It wasn't until Angela knelt next to him and placed a hand on each of his shoulders that his overwhelming remorse cleared slightly.

 _This couldn't be the end. Because he wasn't giving up on her._

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 **So next chapter we'll finish up this episode and deal with the aftermath. I would've liked to finish it in just two chapters, but it just wasn't happening. This episode was important. :)**

 **Review if you can and have a great day!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Welcome back! We're wrapping up the GD episode with this chapter, though of course the consequences will reach a bit further.**

 **As always, thanks so much for all of the wonderful feedback!**

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Chapter 17

The sound of the oxygen being released from the spare tire was one of the most wonderful things Hodgins had ever heard. He and Brennan had cut a hole through the back seat and punctured the tire, leaning in to inhale the air gratefully. They were lethargic and lightheaded with lack of oxygen.

"How much extra time?" Hodgins asked in a faint voice, too disoriented to even attempt the math.

"A little. There are four extra tires, but we can't get to them. Is there anything else?"

"If the ransom was paid, we'd be out by now. Why prolong the inevitable?" he replied despondently.

"Booth will find us," Brennan insisted.

"You have a lot of faith in Booth," he observed with a gentle smile.

"No… Faith is an irrational belief in something that is logically impossible. I've seen what Booth can do. He's saved my life twice. Even when the odds are stacked against him, he doesn't give up. He'll find us. It's not faith." The note of certainty rang in every word, and Hodgins didn't disagree with her about Booth's dedication. He'd witnessed it himself when she'd been taken by Kenton, but he couldn't resist the urge to tease her a little.

"No offense...and I'm not saying this just because you filleted me with a knife… We are out of air. We don't know if our message got out, much less if anyone understood it, and we are buried underground. _What you have is faith, baby."_ He smirked before adding, "Sorry. The baby thing is a reflex."

"It's not faith," she repeated, a tear falling quickly down her cheek. "What I really have is trust. And love. But we shouldn't talk right now… to conserve air."

Something about her choice of phrase caused a new idea to flicker into life in Hodgins' mind, and he looked toward the front seat thoughtfully. He asked her to hand him the camera batteries and the preservative powder from her kit.

"Soda ash and lithium?" she asked in amazement. "You're going to make a carbon dioxide scrubber?"

"If you can perform surgery out of thin air, then I can pull a little thin air out of thin air," he replied. They shared a laugh as they got to work, feeling very much like two science geeks, hunched excitedly over a new project.

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When Booth pulled himself together and stood up from the floor, Cam saw the determined gleam in his eye and tried desperately to come up with the right thing to say.

"Okay… Zack figured out what stun gun the Gravedigger uses and how it's modified. Thanks to Angela, we know the Gravedigger has a customized aluminum casing in the back of his vehicle."

"I've got about a hundred agents working that angle," Booth said irritably, pacing back to the monitor which displayed the numbers Brennan had texted him. He tapped it hard enough to distort the image and said, "What does _this_ mean, right here? What does that mean?"

"You're forgetting something. Brennan and Hodgins are out of air," Zack said, frustrated at the lack of logic in Booth's demands.

"Great. You wanna give up, huh? This is _Bones_ we're talking about, and Hodgins. You really think they didn't find a way to extend their air supply?" Booth shouted back at him, praying he was right. "Hell, they found a way to send us a message to ask us for help, and _you_ want to give up because of math."

Zack clenched his jaw and studied the numbers while Booth fought the urge to scream at him again.

"It's not a numerical or alphabetical code or an equation," he stated. Angela spoke up in an attempt to help him.

"It's not GPS coordinates or indications of topography."

"Great, then _what is it?_ " Booth pressed.

Cam interjected to encourage them to make intuitive leaps, reminding them that the message was from either Brennan or Hodgins to one of three of them.

"Easy, Brennan's cell to mine right? The message was for me, because…" _Because when Bones is in trouble, I'm the one she depends on_.

"No, we should assume the message is from Hodgins, not Brennan," Cam argued.

"Why?"

"Because they're buried alive."

"And Hodgins is all about dirt," Angela interjected.

"The message is to Angela," Zack added, "Hodgins is all about dirt and Angela."

"But it's numbers, Zack. It's for you. Hodgins would've written me a line of poetry or something."

Vega and Janine appeared at the bottom of the platform stairs, insisting that they had appeared on all of the local news shows to plead for more time and another phone call, but they'd received no response.

No one seemed to be paying attention to the irritating man, however, because at that moment, something clicked in Zack's brain, and he began to work the puzzle Hodgins had sent him. He spoke aloud as he reasoned that the numbers corresponded with certain elements on the periodic table, and that a certain component of the message indicated an extremely rare concentration of a certain mineral. He punched the parameters into the computer and brought up a map, pinpointing a certain location on a satellite map.

"I know where they are."

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As the carbon dioxide scrubber began to bubble in Hodgins' hand and replenish the air with just a little bit more oxygen, Hodgins and Brennan laughed in relief.

"That gives us just long enough," Brennan announced, climbing back into the front seat.

"Long enough for what?"

"My next idea, which _will_ kill us," she said sardonically. "Airbags."

"They aren't actually bags of air," he reminded her.

"I'm not looking to extend our survival underground, I'm looking to blow our way out of here."

"Using the explosives from the airbags?" he asked incredulously. "That could _definitely_ kill us."

"So will doing nothing," she replied, turning back toward the steering wheel and getting to work. Hodgins gazed at her for a moment, feeling amazed at her perseverance. Though she had cried a little since they'd woken up in the car, she hadn't truly broken down. Her composure had kept him calm, and he knew that if he'd been alone, he would've been dead by that point. He would have given up hours ago and allowed himself to slip into a painless death.

But Brennan refused to go out like that. She refused to stop believing, even for one second, that Booth would come for them. Hodgins sighed and ripped another page from her novel.

"You should write him a note too," he suggested, offering her the paper. Brennan looked back at the page in his hand and took it with a soft word of thanks.

Brennan hesitated only a moment before the words began to pour out of her onto the small piece of paper, and her hand shook with stress and exhaustion as she gripped the pen in determination.

 _Booth,_

 _I hope you'll never have to read this, but if you do, then I hope you know that this wasn't your fault. NONE of this was your fault. I know you tried to find us in time, but please don't punish yourself if that simply wasn't possible. I love you. And I'm so very thankful that I had you. You taught me that it was okay to love again, that not everyone leaves, and that there are still good men in the world, no matter how many bad ones I've known in my life. You are the BEST man I've ever known or will ever know, regardless of whether I die today or decades from now. If this is the end of my life, then I am at least satisfied that I will die having truly known the power of your love. If I do somehow make it out of this alive, I promise to tell you all of these things, even if you already know them - every single day._

 _I love you, Booth._

 _Yours Always,_

 _Bones_

Brennan folded the note and tucked it into her jacket pocket, returning her attention to the airbag. Hodgins dug around in the trunk until he located a set of jumper cables, and he handed them to her nervously.

"Can this possibly work?"

"I'm not really an explosives expert...but the dash might shape the charge enough to blow out the windshield. If we're less than four feet beneath the surface, this charge could blow us to freedom."

"And if we're buried more than four feet deep?"

"Then the concussion will turn our brains into jelly," she admitted reluctantly.

"Well then we can run for congress," he joked weakly. "So it's a win-win."

"We should get as far away from the explosion as possible."

"I already am," Hodgins told her, holding his hand out toward her. "Care to join me?"

She climbed into the back seat next to him, no longer able to suppress her trembling. Hodgins was growing less responsive by the second, and it was extremely difficult to breathe.

"Ready?" she whispered. He nodded, his eyes barely open.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Dr. Brennan… It's been a privilege."

Hodgins extended his hand, but she pulled him into a hug instead, feeling the tears streaming down her cheeks once more. They sobbed as they held one another tightly for a few moments.

Brennan watched as Hodgins brought the ends of the two wires together, cringing in expectation of the ensuing blast.

 _I love you, Booth._

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Booth and the team had raced to the quarry Zack had located, and a host of FBI personnel had followed close behind. The sun was rising now as Booth stood on the edge of a man-made ravine, his eyes scanning the ground frantically while he shouted instructions at the people around them.

Booth felt a wave of hopelessness surge within him, fearing that they were simply too late, and in the half-second before he allowed it to consume him, a puff of dust erupted from the ground below. He was moving instantly, running so quickly down the hill that he nearly toppled to the bottom. The rest of the group was so stunned by his immediate action that they merely watched in shock as he sprinted toward the tiny cloud of dust. But after a few moments, they were following too, reaching the depression in the ground several seconds later and joining him as he dug into the dirt with his bare hands.

Brennan's ears felt full of cotton after the blast had rebounded into the air around them, but she was very relieved to realize that she was still somehow alive. She forced her body to climb upward out of the busted windshield, holding her last lungful of oxygen as she inched herself onward. To her amazement, the first thing she felt other than rocks and dirt was a hand, and she gripped it instantly, allowing herself to be pulled up and into the light.

Booth grasped her hand frantically, pulling as hard as he could until she emerged from the ground, covered in dust and completely limp in his arms. If it hadn't been for her earlier grip on his hand, Booth would've thought she was unconscious, but after another couple of ragged breaths, she whispered hoarsely.

"Get Hodgins…"

Booth laid her on the ground and turned back to help the others dig Hodgins out, and he was relieved when the man's curly hair became visible amongst the rocks and dirt. Booth returned to Brennan immediately, pulling her onto his lap and holding her so tightly that she gasped for the air she so desperately needed. Her vision swam with the sudden influx of oxygen as he loosened his hold slightly, only to press his lips hungrily to hers. They kissed deeply and passionately, completely missing the smiles and applause from the people around them.

" _Bones,"_ he groaned against her lips in a broken voice.

"I'm okay," she said weakly, wrapping her arms around his torso and breathing him in. Booth was overwhelmed with relief, torn between his desire to check every inch of her for injury and his need to hold her until his arms grew too weak to do the job. They sobbed together for several minutes, oblivious to the crowd around them, to Angela kissing Hodgins as he lay on the ground, to the vehicles pulling up to the scene with their sirens blaring… Nothing could have pulled them from that moment.

In all the world, there existed only two.

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As the crowd of agents, analysts, and police milled around them, Booth and Brennan slowly emerged from their private bubble of intimacy. He eased her gently away from his body to get a good look at her face, relieved to see that there were no obvious injuries.

"Oh God, Bones… Are you really okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" he asked, shaking uncontrollably.

"I'm not hurt. There's a burn on the back of my neck from the stun gun, but otherwise, I'm okay. It was just… hard to breathe," she tried to assure him. Booth nodded and his eyes immediately swept the group of vehicles for an ambulance. There were two, and he saw that Hodgins was already being treated at one of them.

"Come on, baby," he said, encouraging her to roll out of his lap so that he could pick her up.

"This display of chivalry really isn't necessary," she argued half-heartedly. Booth felt a little weak again as a fresh wave of relief swept through him. He carried her to the ambulance and told the EMTs that she needed oxygen, shooting her a look that dared her to contradict him. He was pleased when she merely nodded, accepting the proffered oxygen mask with gratitude.

As she breathed, she watched, finally able to take her eyes off of Booth, even if only for a few seconds at a time. The tech teams were processing the scene, asking questions and collecting evidence. Brennan heard them discussing the removal of the car so that it could be taken into evidence, and she pulled her mask away to call out to Cam so that she could relay information about the evidence. Booth scowled and pushed the mask back to her face.

"I'll get her, you keep that on." Booth paced only a foot away to shout at Cam, not able to put any further distance between himself and Brennan. Cam approached, and Brennan gave her a rundown of what they would find in the car.

Booth felt an odd mixture of queasiness and pride as she described the measures they'd taken to extend their oxygen and, finally, to escape their would-be grave. When at last Brennan's oxygen levels were at a stable, healthier level, the EMTs cleared her to leave.

"Are you sure you don't need to go to the ER?" Booth asked her anxiously, doing yet another once-over to check for injuries.

"No, I'm fine. I just needed to get my oxygen saturation level back to a reasonable number. I can clean the burn marks at home. Hodgins should go though, his leg…" She trailed off, glancing around for Hodgins.

"They already took him. I heard one of the EMTs say that you saved his life," he said softly. She smiled sadly and nodded, leaning against him for support. Booth gathered her against his chest again and signaled an agent, telling the man to bring his car down from to the ravine. Booth held her until the agent pulled the SUV to a stop a short distance from them, and she mumbled another complaint as he swept her into his arms again, carrying her to the vehicle and depositing her inside.

For a moment, Brennan had to fight the urge not to panic at being back inside of a car, but as soon as Booth had turned the key, she pressed the button to lower the window, feeling her pulse slow again. Booth noticed her anxiety and was instantly repentant.

"I'm sorry, Bones, I didn't think…"

"No, it's alright. I'll be fine."

Booth recognized her walls going up slightly, and he reached across the console to enclose her hand within his, entwining their fingers gently.

"You _will_ be fine," he agreed. "But it's okay if you're not right now. I'm sure as hell not."

Brennan smiled weakly and nodded, returning the slight squeeze of her hand as he steered the car away from the quarry and toward home.

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"Let's get you cleaned up, huh? Booth encouraged her as they walked through the door. He glanced around the house briefly, feeling a bit of a twinge as he recalled the fear of having to come home without her. Booth studied Brennan's movements and she nodded absently at this suggestion and began to remove her jacket.

He pulled a few evidence bags from under the kitchen sink and held them open as she shed her clothing methodically. Brennan had evidence bags stashed in various places around the house, and although Booth had always found it a little odd, in that moment, he couldn't have been happier about it. It meant that they wouldn't have to go to the lab or to the Hoover to turn her clothing into evidence until the following day, and for that he was thankful.

While Booth had his back turned to retrieve the bags, Brennan pulled the note from her jacket pocket and placed it on the counter. Booth didn't seem to notice its appearance when he turned around again. Brennan decided that she may as well keep the dusty, dirty mess in one place, so she stripped right there in the middle of the kitchen. She felt his eyes on her, but she knew that his scrutiny was not sexual in any way. He was checking her for bruises, abrasions, and lacerations. It hadn't been enough to hear her reassure him that she was unhurt; he needed to see it for himself.

Once the evidence collection was finished, she slid the note off the counter and let him lead her up to their bathroom. Booth removed his own dusty clothing, the same suit he'd been wearing the day before, and left it in a pile on the bathroom floor. He insisted on helping her in the shower, and she wasn't about to argue with him.

Booth washed the dirt from her hair slowly and thoroughly, lathering and rinsing it multiple times until the last of it was gone. At one point, Brennan hissed in pain as the stream of water made contact with the burn on the back of her neck, and Booth was quick to pull her closer for a better look. He cursed under his breath at the sight of the wound, and she placed a hand against his stubbled cheek to reclaim his attention.

"It'll heal, Booth."

"You're sure you shouldn't have it looked at?"

"I'm sure. I just want to be home. In our bed, with you. I don't want to waste time at the ER."

He nodded grimly and did his best to ignore the churning of his stomach. They washed one another's bodies rather than their own, seemingly unable to stop touching each other for more than a few seconds.

Brennan felt that she craved his presence and his touch more strongly than he probably realized. As much trust as she'd had in his perseverance, this ordeal had been different than the last. Just as when Peter had taken her, she'd known that Booth would come. But when she'd been held captive in that basement, she'd been sure that it was just a matter of waiting for him and doing her best to survive in the meantime. This time around was different. Yes, she'd still known he would find them, but they'd been working with a limited amount of time. It could have turned out so much worse.

Once they finished in the shower, he helped her into one of his softest t-shirts and chose a clean pair of boxers for himself. He watched her complete her normal routine with an ache in his chest, and he thought of all the tiny things he loved about her. He'd come so close to losing so much, and for a moment, the weight of it overwhelmed him. Booth willed his tears not to spill over and his throat to unclench while she smoothed her lotion over her graceful hands.

Brennan had brought the note to her bedside table, knowing that he would want to talk about everything, and she stopped before pulling the curtains closed. She knew he would want to read the letter, but her hesitancy about extinguishing the light had other causes.

"Do you… Do you mind if we leave the curtains open? At least for a while?" She asked the question in a small, quivering voice, and the sound of it broke his heart. It was late morning now, but their room-darkening curtains were extremely efficient. It didn't take a genius to understand why she was asking.

"Of course," he said quickly. Brennan breathed a tiny sigh of relief and snuggled into his arms. For the longest time, they merely held one another. They counted each other's breaths and heartbeats, and their fingers never stopped moving over each other's skin.

"I'm so sorry, Bones."

"Stop. You have _nothing_ to be sorry for," she whispered back. She'd known the weight of his guilt before she'd escaped that car, and there was no way she was going to let it stand. "

"I almost lost you. I watched that clock run out, and I… I lost it. Actually, I'd pretty much lost it before that, I guess…"

"Tell me what happened from your perspective," she encouraged. "You heard most of what happened in the car when I was talking to Cam, so… it's your turn. We need to talk about it, Booth." As much he wanted to argue with her logic, he knew she was right. That didn't stop him from trying to lighten the mood just a little though.

"Why, Dr. Brennan, are you delving into the realm of _psychology_? Saying we need to talk about our feelings?"

Brennan scoffed predictably, and the sight of her wrinkled nose made him want to weep all over again.

"Don't be ridiculous. I just meant…" She paused, wishing she could explain her desire to hear his side. It was as though life had stopped while she'd been underground. She'd felt cut off and isolated, and she needed some sort of reassurance that life had indeed continued during that time. She also knew that if she were going to help him deal with his guilt, she would need to understand exactly what he'd gone through that day. "I want to know what it was like for you. I _need_ to know."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but Booth understood what she'd left unsaid, just as he always did. He assured her that he'd only been teasing and kissed her gently. Over the next hour or so, he told her what had happened from the time she'd been taken to the second her hand had closed around his at that quarry, and she interrupted him more than once to add details of her own...and question his sanity.

"You almost strangled him?" she asked incredulously when he got to the part about Vega.

"He deserved it," Booth replied darkly. "I'm still not convinced he wasn't involved somehow. The _only_ thing that makes sense is that someone on our side of the fight is a traitor."

Brennan didn't disagree with that conclusion, but she was still concerned at Booth's behavior. She'd seen him get that angry a handful of times, of course, in addition to his admission of putting his gun in a gang leader's mouth. She hoped for Vega's sake that he wasn't connected to the Gravedigger, because if he was, he'd just made the worst possible enemy in the form of one Seeley Booth.

"Did you… Did it make you feel like...before?" he asked cautiously, dreading her answer. The image of her trapped in a car had haunted him ever since she'd shared her first experience with him, but in the last 18 hours, his mind had been playing that particular nightmare on a virtual loop.

"It did… at first," she admitted. "But it was different this time. There was more room to move… There was light inside the car...and I wasn't alone. I didn't have any of that the other times. Hodgins being there really helped me to stay calm, I think. Not that I would've wanted anyone to go through that, but… It would have been worse if I'd been alone."

Booth held her a little more tightly and shuddered at the reminder of how close he'd truly come to losing her. Brennan inhaled deeply before laying the next bit of information on him.

"Before we triggered the airbag, we…we wrote letters. In case our bodies were ever found," she whispered against his bare chest. Booth could no longer contain the sob that had been building in his chest, and he buried his face against her half-dried hair for several long minutes until he felt he had enough control to respond.

"Where is it?"

"Over there," she said, gesturing to her nightstand. He glanced in that direction and, sure enough, the folded piece of paper was there, fluttering slightly in the breeze from the ceiling fan overhead as though taunting him.

"Can I read it now?"

Brennan searched his features in concern but nodded, knowing that if their roles had been reversed, she wouldn't have wanted to wait either. She rolled out of his arms for just long enough to retrieve the note, and she held him tightly as he read it. Brennan saw the tears leak from his eyes, and she reached up to wipe them away gently.

As Booth's eyes tracked each line, he tried not to imagine what it would feel like to be reading the letter after she'd died. He was so accustomed to her elegant handwriting, that at first he didn't recognize the penmanship of the note. Her hand had obviously been trembling, and the note had been written in low light. After hearing the squints talk about hypoxia, he knew that it was also possible she hadn't been able to see all that clearly. And yet, in spite of all of those things, in spite of the fear and anxiety that must have been overwhelming her, Brennan's potentially final act had been to reassure him. She'd made a concentrated effort to remind him how much she loved him and what he meant to her, and she'd begged him not to hold himself responsible.

Booth couldn't speak for a while after he'd finished reading the letter. He could only hold her and sob. He cried with pain as well as fear...with love as well as relief. And Brennan cried with him, pressing herself to him so tightly that their bodies might as well have melded into one aching, exhausted person.

"I'm thankful for you too," he whispered, when at last he could speak. "I'm a better man because I met you. Because I have your love. It's what makes me strong, makes me want to be the man you deserve, Bones. The man you already think I am. I will spend the rest of my life trying to be that man for you. I love you so much, baby."

"I love you too. You're everything you need to be, Booth. Don't doubt it for a second."

Brennan couldn't bring herself to close the curtains completely, but it was dim enough that Booth fell asleep eventually anyway. As exhausted as she was, however, sleep refused to come for Brennan. Each time she closed her eyes even slightly, she was back in that car, and after a little while, she decided to simply focus on other things.

She counted his heartbeats for a while, studied the handsome features of his face, mentally catalogued each of his bones, soothed him through several nightmares... And the hours passed. The sun crept slowly across the sky, peeking through the tiny spaces in the window blinds to throw horizontal patterns onto the opposite wall. She watched them move downward as the sun rose higher, and when at last they began to cross the floor, Booth began to stir.

It was now late afternoon, but she knew that his stress had finally drained him of all energy, so she allowed him to wake gradually when his body was ready.

"Hey," he mumbled, tightening his heavy arms around her. "You sleep okay?"

"Yeah," she whispered back, hiding her face against him. Brennan told herself that he didn't need anything else to worry about and that there was no reason to burden him.

She resolved to simply try again that night.

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Booth watched her as she made a valiant effort to eat the meal he'd cooked for them. He was sure that she hadn't slept much, if at all, in spite of her earlier reassurance. He decided that he would stay up with her that evening until she fell asleep, no matter how tired he might be.

"You should probably call Russ… Let him know you're okay."

"Why? Did you call him?" she asked in confusion

"No, I remembered he was on a fishing trip, but he was supposed to get back today. And one of the things we tried was to get that reporter on TV to plead for more time, so… I'm sure Amy at least would have seen it."

"Oh, Booth! It's Thanksgiving. What about Hank?"

"Don't worry, I already got in touch with him earlier. He said to tell you he loves you and to let me take care of you. And he'll be here for a few days at Christmas."

"Did he really say that?" she asked in surprise. Booth missed the sudden wave of emotion that had crossed her features.

"Yeah," he laughed a little, "He knows how stubborn you are and how you like to put up a fight when I want to take care of you."

"No… I meant, did he really say he loved me?"

Booth looked at her sharply at the vulnerability in her voice, and his expression softened instantly.

"Of course, Bones. Of course he loves you. He considers you family," Booth promised. Brennan nodded, her eyes welling with tears that Booth gently wiped away.

"I love him too." She was quiet for a few moments while she got herself together. They finished their meal, and Brennan called Russ from the landline.

"Hey, Russ, it's me," she greeted him when he picked up.

"Tempe? Thank God… I was about to get in the car and drive to DC. Amy saw the news this morning, and I've been calling your cell ever since I got home. Are you okay? Are you at the hospital?"

"Uh… Yes, I'm alright. I didn't need to go to the hospital though; the EMTs were able to handle it at the scene."

"Are you sure? What _happened?_ "

She could hear the anxiety and tension in his voice, so she gave him a truncated version the events. Russ sounded very disturbed at her description of the Gravedigger and his crimes, but his relief at the story of her rescue was palpable even over the phone. When she concluded her story, he asked to speak to Booth, and Brennan handed him the phone. She listened curiously to his side of the conversation and deduced that Russ was thanking him for finding her and saving her life. Booth assured him that his thanks weren't necessary, and Brennan smiled affectionately at her boyfriend, feeling more than a little in awe of him.

It was humbling, really, the way he consistently managed to defy the odds when it came to her safety. Brennan knew exactly how lucky she was to have him, whether she actually believed in luck or not.

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On the following Saturday, Booth told her that he wanted to go to church to give thanks, and to Brennan's surprise, he asked if she would like to join him. She agreed immediately and wondered what had made him change his mind about taking her to church. It wouldn't be during a Mass, but that didn't matter to her. She had observed hundreds of religious ceremonies in the past. What she had really been interested in observing was _him_.

In truth, Booth would have given her just about anything she'd ever asked for, and a trip to church was the least he was willing to give. He would have taken her along anyway though. It had only been two days since he'd come so close to losing her, and Booth wasn't willing to let her out of his sight just yet. He felt compelled to thank God for so many things, and although he'd been doing precisely that since the moment Brennan had been rescued, there was something different about doing it in a church.

When her body had finally given in to her exhaustion, she'd been plagued by relentless nightmares. At times, she merely whimpered and thrashed in her sleep while others sent her bolting upright in bed and screaming with terror. Booth had been there for every moment of her torment, doing his best to soothe and quiet her until she could relax back into his arms. Brennan had still been unable to be in a completely darkened room, but Booth didn't mind leaving the lamp on all night. He'd certainly slept under more difficult conditions in the past, and if light was what she needed, then he was determined she would have it.

Brennan was insisting on returning to work on Monday, and Booth knew that he most likely wouldn't be able to talk her out of it. The only reason he'd been able to keep her home for a couple of weeks after the last ordeal had been due to her injuries. He didn't have that on his side this time, and Brennan was determined to resume their usual routines as soon as possible.

Brennan watched Booth pray quietly, sitting in the pew next to him as he knelt. Although he appeared much the same as every other time she'd watched him pray, she noticed a slight difference in him when he returned to sit next to her. His features held just a bit less tension, less remorse, less anger. Booth reached for her hand, entwining their fingers in a familiar gesture of love, and they sat in silence for a few moments.

"I'm okay with you thanking God for saving me and Hodgins," she said quietly.

"That's not what I thanked Him for. Or...well, it's not _all_ I thanked Him for… I thanked him for saving _all_ of us. It was all of us, Bones. _Every single one_. You take one of us away, and you and Hodgins are in that hole forever. And I'm thankful."

"I knew you wouldn't give up, Booth," Brennan told him once more.

"I knew _you_ wouldn't give up."

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 **See you back on Friday. Same bat time, same bat channel.**

 **Reviews make me smile!**


	18. Chapter 18

**It's Friday! Thank you for all of the reviews and feedback, they truly give me great motivation to keep writing! Honestly, I would probably finish writing this story even if no one was reading it because I'm so invested, but you guys keep me dedicated to the quick posting schedule. So keep it up! :)**

 **Also there just _might_ be a teensy bit of smut in this one. hehe**

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Chapter 18

Booth's overprotective nature was operating at full force in the weeks that followed, and Brennan was reminded of his behavior in the wake of her previous abduction. They carpooled _everywhere_ , whether Brennan felt it was necessary or not, and Booth had flat out forbidden her to go anywhere alone. _That_ particular phrase had nearly earned him a night in the guest room, but in the end, he'd resorted to begging her to do things his way. Brennan had eventually conceded, not really feeling ready to be completely on her own at that point anyway, and she'd known that her pride wasn't worth adding to the stress the situation had already placed on him.

Brennan felt rather guilty over Booth's stress level as it was. Every night in her dreams, she returned to her almost-grave, and every night Booth was there to calm her when she woke in a panic. They were both losing sleep, and once or twice, Brennan even suggested that she try a sleeping pill in the hopes of a solid night's rest for both of them. Booth didn't like the idea, however, insisting that if she really wanted to take one, she was free to do so, but that he would be staying awake to make sure she was okay. They'd had another quasi-argument over his irrational fear that one sleeping pill might stop her heart, but of course, he'd won that one as well. There was no way Brennan was going to allow him to stay up all night simply to watch her breathe.

Between her residual anxiety from the incident with Peter and her new anxiety stemming from the Gravedigger ordeal, Brennan wondered if she would ever be able to walk through a parking structure without having a panic attack. It wasn't something she had really discussed with anyone yet. Booth hadn't needed to be told to park elsewhere; he had simply altered his habits without bringing it up. However, two weeks had now passed since her abduction, and Brennan summoned the nerve to bring it up as he drove her to the lab one morning.

"I decided to ask Cam to change my parking permit to an outdoor lot," she said quietly, keeping her eyes trained on the car in front of them. Booth glanced at her sharply and pursed his lips in disapproval.

"Not yet, Bones."

"The lot is well-lit and covered by security cameras, and it's just a short walk to-"

"Not yet. I know you want things to get back to normal, but I want to carpool for a while longer." Brennan opened her mouth to deliver her 'I'm fine' response, but Booth headed her off. "You may be ready, but _I'm_ not. Okay? I know I've been driving you a little crazy with the overprotectiveness, but I need you to just…let me do it. At least for a little while longer."

Brennan sighed, not wanting to argue about it again. She'd been torn between feeling frustrated at his round-the-clock coddling and being thankful that he cared so much. However, Brennan was determined that she would not allow this situation to drag on for months. She needed to be able to pull herself together, to not have to rely on Booth's presence to make her feel safe.

"A little while longer," she conceded. "And then when I do go back to driving, we'll go back to carpooling when it makes sense."

"Or if there's bad weather, since you'd be parking outside. It's almost winter," he compromised, adding to the list in his mind. _Or if it's too dark, or if the security's not good enough…_

"Okay," she agreed. They shared a tentative smile and kissed one another goodbye when Booth pulled up to the main entrance. He promised to be back to get her for lunch, as he'd been doing every day since she'd returned to work.

Cam's office was her first stop after dumping her bag and coat, and she knocked politely on the open door to get her boss's attention.

"Dr. Brennan, good morning. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes, I wondered if you might know who I could speak to about changing my parking permit to one of the outdoor lots," Brennan replied, a little nervous to be revealing what she perceived as a weakness to a colleague.

"I can take care of that, actually. Hodgins has already made the same request," Cam said gently.

"Thank you. It's just for a little while…"

"Don't worry about it. I completely understand your concern."

"I'm fine, but...thank you."

"Well maybe _you're_ fine, but I'm certainly not," she replied bluntly. "I've had several meetings with security and the board of directors to get them to upgrade parking security. It took some work, but I got them on my side. They've agreed to put an attendant on each level of the building and increase the number of security cameras so that every inch of every level is covered."

Brennan was surprised at Cam's initiative and impressed that she'd been willing to go head-to-head with the board over the issue.

"Thank you. That's… Thank you," Brennan replied, a bit lost for words.

"Not at all. My team members were targeted and _abducted_ , and it wasn't even the first time it happened to you. That's unacceptable in a place like the Jeffersonian. You do a lot for this lab, Dr. Brennan, and you deserve to feel safe when you come to work. We all do."

Brennan didn't know what to say, feeling more than a little stunned at Cam's concern as well as the unexpected compliment. She nodded awkwardly and thanked Cam again, anxious to get her workday started, but her boss stopped her before she had taken more than a few steps toward the door.

"Dr. Brennan," she called out. "It's really none of my business, but…try to go easy on Seeley. I know he's driving you a little nuts with the guard dog routine lately, but it's just how he is. He loves you a lot."

"I know that… I assume you're bringing it up because you overheard us arguing the other day, so I apologize for the disturbance."

Cam nodded and smiled to convey that no apology was necessary. She'd overheard a rather heated discussion about whether Brennan would or would not take a cab home if she wanted to work late that evening.

"No harm done," Cam reassured her. "I just… He really had a hard time while you were missing, and this is just his way of trying to move on."

"Yes, I know that. His alpha male tendencies are certainly nothing new to me, but I appreciate your concern for him. And…for me and Hodgins. Thanks, Cam."

Her boss smiled again and let her leave, easily reading Brennan's discomfort with the conversation, and when Booth showed up to take Brennan to lunch a few hours later, Cam was pleased to see Brennan step away from her work without argument.

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The following morning, they were called to a crime scene in George Washington National Forest, and Brennan felt relieved at the prospect of a new case to distract her. They had to trek through the woods for quite a little while, following a park ranger who led them off of the marked trails.

"It's getting thicker and thicker in here," Brennan commented, stepping carefully through the dense foliage.

"That's why the forensic team got lost. I've sent somebody back to find them," the ranger replied.

"You sure you know where you're going?" Booth asked the man skeptically.

"I still have trouble, and I've been here for three years. That's why we advise hikers to stay away."

"I know I'm pining for concrete," Booth complained, wincing at the pain in his feet as he stepped awkwardly over the uneven ground. He glanced back at Brennan to make sure she didn't need his help in managing the terrain. "You just, uh… You stay close, alright Bones? I don't want you to get caught out here when it gets dark."

He expected a response of some sort, most likely an insistence of her ability to look after herself, but when his instruction was met only with silence, he turned around to look at her. Booth's heart faltered at her sudden disappearance, and his eyes scanned the thick forest anxiously.

"Bones? Bones! Where the hell are you? Bones!" he shouted, backtracking quickly.

"I'm _right here_ , Booth," she replied, her eye roll practically audible in her tone. He expelled a sigh of relief and followed her voice.

"Don't do that, alright?"

"What?"

"Take off like that, okay? You heard the guy…"

"I saw this," she explained, pointing up at a strange looking object hanging from a tree. "Some sort of talisman. These are bones from a bird, and the coloring on that ornament looks like dried blood. There are more of them too." She indicated each part of the object as she spoke, then pointed at the surrounding trees. There were at least a half a dozen hanging from various branches.

"Geez, they look like _eyes_ ," Booth observed. "Okay, this is weird. You see a lot of these?" he asked the park ranger.

The man claimed not to have seen anything like them before, but he explained that many others had reported strange incidents in that particular part of the forest. He told them about a legend involving a woman named Maggie Cinders who had lived in that part of the woods. She'd been beheaded on suspicion of witchcraft. Brennan quirked a skeptical brow at him, and Booth encouraged the man to keep moving toward the crime scene.

"This is one of the only clearings around here," the ranger said as they approached an area cordoned off by crime scene tape. "The pit was covered with sticks and leaves. One of the hikers fell in on the body, freaked, and ran. Maggie Cinders did say she'd kill anybody who dared to look for her," the ranger added.

"You talked to Ms. Cinders?" Brennan asked, unable to resist. "That must've been difficult since she doesn't have a head. Bag the eyes," she instructed him.

"Give me a hand?" she asked Booth, holding out her own so that he could take it to help lower her into the pit.

"You want me to go down there with you?" he offered, easing her down the wall of dirt.

"No. I don't want the remains compromised," she replied predictably.

As Booth and the ranger discussed the Maggie Cinders legend in a little more detail, Brennan examined the remains. She quickly determined them to belong to a male between the ages of 18 and 25, who also happened to be headless.

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It took a bit longer than usual to get the remains out of the woods and back to the lab, but Booth was able to make the ID fairly quickly through a Missing Persons search. The victim was Graham Hastings, a film student at the University of Virginia. He'd been in the forest to film a documentary on the Maggie Cinders legend.

Hodgins identified wood splinters found on the body as a particular subspecies of birch that had been extinct since 1800, and he, being Hodgins, had immediately latched on to the unlikely coincidence that Maggie Cinders had supposedly been beheaded by an axe made from the same type of wood.

Angela called the group into her office a few minutes later with the news that she had been able to pull something from the videotape, and they gathered around her computer to watch. The images were disturbing, and Brennan didn't object when Booth reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. Cam stood behind them and smiled at Brennan's actions. The anthropologist may have been quick to dismiss the existence of the paranormal while they'd been examining the remains, but she didn't fail to comfort Booth, whose beliefs differed from her own.

The video footage showed Graham Hastings in the woods after dark with a young girl in her early twenties. Both were clearly terrified, and a loud banging noise could be heard in the background. At the end of the video, the girl seemed to be missing, and Graham's face was splattered by a large amount of blood as he screamed in horror.

Booth went back to his office to make a few calls before lunch, and Brennan returned to the platform with Zack, Hodgins, and Cam. Brennan gritted her teeth a little as the rest of the team conjectured about the paranormal aspects of the case.

"I may be alone in this, but I think _one_ of us should remain a rational human being during this investigation," she stated, examining a fractured ulna. She announced that it had been professionally set, and Zack agreed.

"From the degree of callus formation, that's a childhood injury."

"One that could confirm the ID. I'll call Booth; he should've contacted the next of kin by now," Brennan said, snapping off her gloves and heading toward the stairs. "Zack, place some garlic around the remains and chant the Hmong ritual for preservation of souls."

"Really?" he asked, confused. Brennan stopped walking for a moment and shook her head with a disbelieving grin.

"This is going to be a long case," she muttered. Hodgins watched her go and smirked at Cam.

"So much time around Booth has really done wonders for grasp of sarcasm."

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"I could've taken a cab," Brennan argued. Booth had predictably showed up to bring her back to his office for a meeting with the victim's brother, and he decided to simply ignore her stubbornness in favor of case talk.

"The victim's brother is bringing the medical records. I told him we needed childhood x-rays if he could get them."

Brennan rolled her eyes a little at his persistence but allowed him to lead her through the hallways to his office with a hand at the small of her back. The victim's brother, Will Hastings, arrived shortly thereafter, and Brennan immediately examined the x-rays he'd brought with him.

"It's a match," she confirmed. "I'm very sorry."

"Thanks," Will replied quietly. Brennan took a seat on one of the visitor's chairs. "I...I can't say I'm surprised. He was missing for a year, but still, when you hear… It was just us, you know. My parents died in a car accident. I was 18, and he was 13. When something like that happens, when you lose your parents at that age… It's just that people don't understand how close you become…"

"I lost mine when I was 15," Brennan offered sympathetically. "It was just...me and my brother too. He was 19."

"Sorry," Will replied softly.

"Did Graham live with relatives, or did he go into foster care?"

"God, no, I would never let him go into the system," he said fervently, taking a seat near Brennan. Booth watched speculatively from behind his desk. "I… I dropped out of college, I joined the fire department to support him…" Will caught sight of Brennan's expression and instantly regretted his words. "Your brother didn't…"

"It was a difficult situation for him," she replied, feeling a little uncomfortable.

"I understand. I mean, you know…it seems like you turned out okay though." Brennan laughed nervously and averted her eyes from Will's empathetic expression. Booth had kept silent until that point, but he wasn't feeling particularly fond of the way Will was looking at Brennan. The man's expression was soft and admiring, and Booth felt his jaw clench instinctively.

"Do you know who Graham was with the night he disappeared?" Booth asked, walking around his desk to subtly place himself closer to Brennan than Will was sitting.

"Yeah, a couple film students from school. There was a guy and a girl. I tried to get the guy, Brian, to help with the search, but he was too freaked out to go back into the woods. I've never seen someone so scared…"

"So you were involved with the search?" Brennan asked.

"I've led a lot of search and rescue operations as a firefighter. I should have found him," Will said, looking guilty.

"It's not your fault."

"I should have locked him in his damn room. I mean, everyone knows weird things happen in those woods…"

Booth was pulled into the hallway by one of his agents for a few minutes, and by the time he returned to his office, Will Hastings had left.

"Alright, so… I'm gonna track down the other film student he was talking about, but we can grab a late lunch first," Booth suggested.

Brennan agreed, knowing it would do no good to refuse, but she didn't do much more than push her food around her plate when they got to the diner. Booth noticed, of course, but he decided to give her some time. He knew he'd been more than a little overbearing in the weeks that had passed since the Gravedigger incident, and although he didn't regret watching out for her, he'd never intentionally set out to frustrate her. He also knew that he'd done a bit of alpha male posturing back in his office, and he was glad that she didn't seem to have noticed.

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By late afternoon, Booth had located the victim's friend on the UVA campus. His name was Brian Andrews, and he had applied for the fellowship that had allowed Graham to attend school there. Brian had received the fellowship by default when Graham disappeared.

Brennan watched the passing landscape as Booth spoke, and he couldn't help but notice that she didn't seem to have heard him at all. Her expression was troubled, and Booth hoped she'd had enough time to stew over whatever was bothering her, because he couldn't stand to see her looking that way any longer.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah… Doesn't look good for Brian Andrews."

"You okay?"

Booth was pleased that he didn't have to pry any more than that, and Brennan turned toward him looking slightly irritated.

"I… I wonder what my life would've been like if Russ had raised me," she admitted. Booth had often wondered that himself, but he chose his next words carefully.

"Well… Russ made some pretty bad decisions back then, you know? I'd imagine it wouldn't have been very good."

"If he'd accepted responsibility for raising me…" She shook her head, displeased with herself. "I'm romanticizing. It's foolish."

"Everyone does it, Bones. Okay? It's normal," he soothed.

"It's a useless fantasy, no different from the childish legend about the headless woman. I mean, look at Will. He sacrificed everything for his brother and still couldn't save him. By walking out, maybe Russ gave me my life."

Booth was fairly certain she was right about that, but he sure as hell wished she hadn't had to go through so much in order to achieve that life.

"But you know… What Will said was right. You turned out okay," he pointed out. Brennan graced him with a crooked smile of thanks and was silent for a moment.

"He asked me to have coffee with him," Brennan said bluntly. Booth gritted his teeth as she continued, "I declined obviously. He's a potential suspect until we can rule him out. Not that I would have said yes anyway."

"True," Booth agreed, bring her hand to his lips softly. He grumbled inwardly at the thought of Will Hastings hitting on his girlfriend, but he knew full well that he had no cause for concern. The guy seemed more likely to be the love-sick puppy type than the creepy stalker type.

They reached UVA a short while later and met with Brian Andrews. Booth did the majority of the talking, but both partners left with the same impression of the man: this wasn't their killer. Brian was obviously still very disturbed at over what had happened in the woods, and he seemed to be genuinely ashamed of himself for being too afraid to go back to the woods to look for his friend. He had carried the girl, Lori, out of the woods that night in a near catatonic state of fear. Lori had been in and out of the psych ward since that night, and Brian told Booth where he could find her.

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Booth went to visit Lori after dropping Brennan off at the lab the next morning, but the meeting went very poorly. Lori believed that Graham would come for her soon and informed Booth that they'd been dating. When Booth told her gently that they'd found his body in the woods, Lori had a rather spectacular fit and had to be subdued by a couple of orderlies.

"She freaked, Bones. It was like she was out there in the woods with that witch." He'd gone straight back to the lab to touch base with the team, and he'd caught Brennan on her way to the platform, falling into step beside her.

" _Don't_ let anyone else hear you talking like that, Booth." Brennan had had enough talk about murderous spirits in her lab.

"I'm just saying. You know, I've seen a lot of weird things. It was like…Exorcist weird or Elm Street weird."

"What are you talking about?" Her brow furrowed in confusion as she swiped her access card and mounted the stairs.

"They're movies, okay Bones?" he explained. "Moves so scary that you… you know, pee in your pants." Brennan wrinkled her nose at the visual.

"Good to know," she said sarcastically.

"Guess we haven't made it around to many scary movies, huh?" He'd been doing his best to expand her pop culture knowledge, but horror was one of the genres they hadn't quite gotten to yet.

"You _want_ to pee your pants?"

"No," he laughed, slipping an arm boldly around her waist and leaning closer to speak into her ear. "But you can get _really_ close to me when you get scared." They shared a mischievous grin, and Booth pulled away reluctantly when he noticed that Zack was waiting to report his findings, looking a bit uncomfortable

"I noticed some damage to the subdeltoid bursa. Looks like the subscapularis was torn away," Zack informed her.

"They're fracture lines," Brennan confirmed, looking at the monitor. "This was a postmortem trauma."

"Something happened to his shoulder after he died?" Booth asked. Brennan nodded and gave him an approving smile. She still got a little turned on anytime Booth accessed his inner squint.

"It was dislocated."

"The injury doesn't fit into our established scenario of the struggle," Zack argued. Brennan drew their attention to hinge fractures on the posterior ribs and abruptly instructed Zack to lie down on the floor.

"Face up or face down?" he asked without hesitation.

"Face up."

Booth smirked as Zack obeyed and allowed his mentor to drag him across the platform by his arm. Brennan announced that if Graham had been dragged to the pit in that direction, not only would it cause the fracturing they'd found, but the exposed neck wound would have also picked up particulates along the way. Brennan pulled Zack to his feet and told him to get Hodgins' help in determining where the Graham had been beheaded. Zack scurried off, and Booth followed Brennan to her office.

"I'm waiting to hear back from the psych ward to see if we can talk to Lori again," he told her.

"Well, Will gave me his number, so I could call and ask what type of relationship Graham and Lori really had."

"Whoa, wait a second. The guy gave you his number even after you turned him down for coffee?" Booth could feel the surliness in his expression but didn't have time to mask it before she turned to face him. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes speculatively, and it took her only a few seconds to realize what he was thinking.

"Yes… I assumed that it was so that we could contact him about the case," she replied with a knowing smile.

"Then why didn't he give me his number too?"

Brennan's smile widened, and she pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. He didn't hesitate to curl his around her waist, but he still looked a little put out.

"Do you remember when Cam joined the team, and I was feeling...slightly territorial?" she asked, her voice husky with subdued arousal.

"Yeah," he grinned, fairly certain he knew where she was going with this.

"And you thought it was hot?"

"Yeah."

"I find that the situation is equally arousing in reverse," she whispered, her warm breath dancing over his ear and sending a thrill down his spine.

"Oh really?" he teased her. Brennan nodded and nibbled his ear gently.

Booth made a growling sort of noise deep in his chest, and he threaded his fingers into her hair to pull her head back just far enough so that he could seize her lips abruptly. She opened her mouth immediately, eager to deepen the kiss, and she pulled his tongue into her mouth hungrily. Booth groaned, still gripping a handful of her hair while his other hand drifted further south, pulling her hips tightly against his.

Cam cleared her throat softly from the open doorway, having sought Brennan out to give her some information on the case, but the couple seemed to have lost all sense of the time and place. They hadn't bothered to close the door _or_ the blinds. On the _third_ attempt, she finally succeeded in getting their attention, and it was hard to determine who looked more embarrassed. Booth and Cam were blushing in equal measure, but Brennan seemed perfectly at ease.

"Yes, Dr. Saroyan?" Brennan asked smoothly, her benign expression belying the puffiness of her lips.

"Yeah, um… the blood on those talisman things hanging from the trees wasn't human."

"Thank you."

"Of course." Cam began to walk away but turned back almost immediately. "Uh… I'd really prefer that you don't have sex in your office," she said, cringing in discomfort.

"We weren't planning to," Brennan assured her. "We'd never do that during hours." Booth's face turned an even deeper shade of red, but he kept silent.

"Or...at all?" Cam asked hopefully. Brennan was blushing now, and Booth was determinedly looking anywhere but at Cam.

"...Sure."

Cam nodded and disappeared in the direction of her office. The color in Booth's face began to return to normal, and he noticed Brennan's thoughtful expression.

"What?"

"That's not the first time she's made that request… You don't think maybe one of the security cameras has picked anything up?"

Booth chuckled nervously. _Dear God, I hope not. Talk about awkward._

"Well… Maybe it wouldn't hurt to find a new storage closet. You know, just in case." He winked at her and kissed her lightly.

"Hmm. Anyway, I'll call Will and see what he has to say about Lori."

Booth pursed his lips at the sound of Will's name but stayed quiet while she was on the phone. He scowled a little more when he heard her agree to meet the guy for lunch.

"I'm coming with you," he said when she'd ended the call. His tone made it clear that the matter wasn't up for discussion.

Brennan shivered slightly and wished they had time to sneak into that supply closet, cameras be damned.

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Their lunch meeting reminded Booth forcibly of the one they'd had earlier that year with Jesse Kane. Will Hastings looked at Booth a total of perhaps three times, and it was obvious that the man was nursing a crush on Brennan. His eyes rarely left her, and at one point, he attempted to turn the conversation toward her tastes in music and away from the investigation.

The only reward Booth got for not giving the guy a black eye was the information that Graham Hastings hadn't been faithful to Lori. Booth was never more relieved than when Brennan made their excuses and stood to leave before their meals had even been ordered. Will looked disappointed but didn't try to stop them, and Booth had a hard time shaking his irritation for the rest of the day.

They considered the possibility that Lori might have killed Graham because of his infidelity, but her smaller stature made it unlikely that she would have been strong enough to behead him. Brennan spent the afternoon at the lab, searching for more evidence in the bones while the rest of the team continued the investigation in other ways. Cam found evidence of chemically enhanced PCP that was recovered from the scene, and Hodgins helped Angela to comb through the video footage again in search of a particular type of tree that would lead them to the murder site.

Booth paid a quick visit to Brian Andrews before swinging back by the lab to take Brennan home, and they discussed the interview while they ate dinner.

"Brian swears there's no way Lori could have killed Graham, whether she was tripping or not," Booth told her, taking a swig of his beer. "I met Graham's film teacher though, and he seemed a little off. Talking about how what happened was so awful but almost smiling while he said it."

"Would the teacher have had any motive?" Brennan asked, getting up to clear their dishes.

"I don't know, Bones. I guess we'll find out. It was just kind of suspicious. I get a bad vibe from the victim's brother too."

Brennan threw him a challenging glance while she tidied the kitchen. Booth had been anything but subtle in his dislike for the Will Hastings during their not-quite-lunch meeting, and while she found his alpha male behavior arousing, it hadn't made the situation any less awkward.

"I wonder why that is," she retorted. Booth came into the kitchen to help her finish up, looking like he was still rather irritated by the Will's demeanor

"Did you notice the way he changed the subject on you today? You were talking to him about the investigation into his _brother's murder_ , and he brought up your tastes in music." She looked skeptical, so he added, " _And_ when he was talking about Graham's infidelity, he wanted to make sure you didn't think it ran in the family."

"So because he was flirting with me, you think he might have killed his own brother?" Brennan asked facetiously.

"Well, at the very least, he's more interested in hitting on you than finding out what happened to his brother. And I couldn't even give him the stare-down because the jackass wouldn't look at me."

Brennan smiled indulgently and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips softly to his throat. He groaned and pulled her tightly against his chest.

"You're not actually _jealous_ , right?" she murmured, teasing his throbbing pulse with her tongue.

"No…" Booth's hands moved to her buttocks and clenched reflexively when Brennan loosened his tie.

"Hmm… Territorial?" she whispered into his ear. Brennan pulled his tie from around his neck and dropped it to the kitchen floor before getting to work on his shirt buttons. A low grumbling noise came forth from deep in his chest, and he had her dress pants around her ankles before she even realized his hands had moved. Her panties joined them quickly, and Booth gently encouraged her to step out of them before kicking them out of the way.

"Maybe a little… _possessive?_ " The husky suggestion was followed by the sound of Booth's pants hitting the tile floor with a _clink_ of his cocky belt buckle, and when she nipped his earlobe lightly between her teeth, he didn't hold back the growl that had been building in his chest.

Booth pulled her away from him abruptly and whipped her shirt over her head, capturing her lips in a hard kiss as soon as she was free of the soft material. His tongue invaded her mouth quickly, and Brennan gasped as she felt his thumbs sweep over her breasts, bringing her nipples to attention. She shuddered in his arms and clung to his shoulders while their tongues battled for dominance.

His hands glided swiftly over her curves, one returning to her ass while the other sought the wet folds at her center. Brennan cried out softly against his mouth and moved her own hand to his arousal. She pumped him skillfully, spreading a drop of his own fluid down the underside of his member.

Booth groaned loudly in appreciation, enjoying her actions as well as the fact that she was soaking wet for him already. He lifted his lips from hers, noticing that they were a bit swollen from his kiss. The sight made him even more desperate to be inside her, and he knew there was no way they'd make it upstairs to their bed.

"Are you ready?" he asked, already knowing the answer and slipping both hands beneath her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. He boosted her gently and walked to the nearest span of empty wall, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to her neck.

"Yes," she whimpered breathlessly, clinging to him. "Take me, Booth."

"Oh God, Bones," he moaned into her neck. He entered her in one fluid stroke, eliciting a sound from her that was somewhere between a groan and a shout. "So tight, baby." He held still for only a moment, allowing her to adjust, but a low keening from her throat told him that she needed movement. He was all too happy to oblige, and his hips began to move in a steady rhythm, withdrawing only halfway before burying himself to the hilt within her welcoming heat.

"Booth…"

"Tell me," he pled, fastening his mouth to the soft skin of her throat.

"I'm yours. Only yours. Always yours."

" _Mine."_

"Yes," she cried, nearing her climax. With each pass, his pubic bone pressed hard against her clit, and when his pace accelerated, Brennan toppled over the edge almost unexpectedly. Her walls spasmed around him, drawing his own release, and their pulses seemed to harmonize as they trembled in one another's arms.

Booth eased her gently away from the wall, carrying her into the bathroom so that they could clean up more easily. Brennan shook her head with an indulgent smirk when she caught sight of the mark he'd left below her jaw.

"Was _this_ really necessary?" she teased him, pointing to the hickey. Booth didn't look even remotely sorry.

"I'm pretty sure it was, yeah." He pulled her into a tight embrace, looking rather pleased with himself. "In fact, I think maybe you might have a few more of those before the night's over."

Brennan rolled her eyes playfully and pulled out of his arms to head upstairs, taking his hand to encourage him to follow.

"Can you at least _try_ to keep them in places I can cover?" she chuckled. His deep laughter joined hers as he climbed the stairs behind her, appreciating the sway of her naked hips in front of him.

"No promises."

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 **I just love possessive, wordy wallsex. Yum.**

 **Review if you can and have a fantastic weekend! See you on Sunday!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Welcome back, my lovely readers. Thanks as always for the feedback and support in its many forms.**

 **Enjoy and leave me some love!**

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Chapter 19

The investigation seemed to go in several directions at once over the course of the next day. Hodgins and Angela had been able to determine the most likely site of murder before leaving the lab the night before, and Booth and Brennan made another trip into the woods. Not only did the team recover the axe that had most likely been used to behead Graham Hastings, but they also recovered both Graham's skull and another, much older looking skull.

The mystery skull matched the description of Maggie Cinders, but it turned out to have been stolen from the UVA medical school and placed in the woods for the purposes of the documentary filming. Booth discovered that Brian Andrews had stolen Graham's screenplay and used it to enter the Sundance Film Festival, and when the partners interrogated him again, Brian admitted that he hid Lori's blood-stained clothing in the woods that night. The FBI forensic team was able to find them, and Cam discovered that they were stained with cow's blood rather than human blood. The blood on the axe, however, was a match for Graham Hastings.

Angela spotted an additional person on the documentary footage that didn't match mass recognition specs for either Brian or Lori, and the unknown person had clearly been arguing with Graham before his death.

"This person is about 6'1", and as you can see, that includes a head," Angela told them. The partners studied the image over her shoulder, and Booth quickly formed a hypothesis of his own, reminding Brennan that the film teacher was roughly that height.

"I can ask Will if he can tell us anything about Graham and his teacher," Brennan volunteered. "Maybe he threatened Graham?"

Booth followed her from Angela's office to her own, and he listened as she called Will to ask that he come by her office that evening. Booth looked at his watch in surprise, realizing that it was nearly five already.

"Hey, Bones, I'm gonna go pick up some dinner and bring it back, okay?" he told her once she'd ended the call.

"That sounds fine," she approved.

"Any preferences?"

"You know what I like."

Booth grinned at her easy answer and kissed her gently before heading for the exit. Brennan didn't have to wait long for Will to show up. He was escorted to her office by security, and she invited him to sit so they could discuss the case. She'd hoped that Booth would have been back to talk to the man as well, but Brennan reasoned that the sooner she got the information they needed, the sooner they could eat their dinner and head home.

"Are you familiar with Nate Gibbons?" Brennan asked, taking a seat on the couch as well.

"His professor?" Will asked.

"Did Graham tell you anything about his relationship with him?" she pressed. Will gave it a moment's thought before replying.

"Yeah, he said the guy wanted to help produce his film, but Graham said he wanted to do it on his own."

"His professor _is_ producing his film. Brian stole Graham's screenplay. He and the professor are making it."

"The teacher killed Graham for a _script_?" Will asked incredulously.

"It would make his career. Brian's too. I've seen people murdered for a lot less." Brennan watched the man's expressions shifting as he processed the information and belatedly remembered Booth's suspicion of him. "Uh, it's not certain yet. We're just looking for evidence that links one or both of them to the remains," she added.

Will sat for a moment, his gaze flickering between his folded hands and Brennan's face until the latter held his attention. His body was half turned toward her, and Brennan wondered if she was imagining things as he seemed to shift closer to her on the sofa.

"With all this going on… When I'm with you...I feel like everything's gonna be okay," he confessed.

"I'd like to see the world the way you do," she replied somewhat sardonically.

Brennan couldn't help but think of the continuing struggle to cope with the aftermath of the Gravedigger, not just for herself and Hodgins but for Booth and the rest of the team as well. They were all still shaken, and each night when she woke after a nightmare, it was difficult to imagine that everything would work out in the end. Booth was the only reason she felt that it was even an eventual possibility, and she smiled absently at the recollection of his strong arms around her, soothing her back to sleep.

Unfortunately, Will took her smile to indicate something else entirely, and Brennan belatedly realized that he was speaking to her again.

"...looking at a very beautiful woman."

 _What? What was he talking about now?_

Brennan's eyes widened as she realized that Will was in fact leaning forward as if to kiss her…

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Booth strolled through the sliding glass doors with takeout bags in hand, but he hadn't even come within sight of Brennan's office before Cam called out to him from her autopsy room. He changed direction obligingly and found her scowling at a DNA profile that was displayed on one of her large monitors. Zack stood next to her, squinting at the data as well.

"Preliminary tests show only one type of DNA on the axe, but the follow-up tests are showing two," Cam told him.

"Something wrong with our electrophoresis machine?" Zack suggested.

"No, I double checked it."

"So this means you've got the killer's DNA?" Booth asked, hoping he'd understood her correctly.

"Right. The attacker must've been cut by Graham during the struggle. I'm trying to separate out the two types, but it's hard."

"That's easy; I'll just get a warrant for a blood sample for Nate Gibbons," Booth assured her. He was about to leave when Hodgins and Angela swept into the room looking like they had something important to add. Booth shifted the takeout bags, feeling antsy.

"The glove fragments on the handle were coated with diammonium phosphate and a guar gum-derivative thickener," Hodgins announced.

"Can you speak English?" Booth pled.

"It's a flame retardant."

"Exactly," Angela spoke up. "Isn't that only used by professional firefighters?"

Booth felt a chill wash over him as something clicked. He set the bags on the floor and headed toward Cam's doorway, his pulse quickening as he spoke.

"Graham Hastings' brother was a firefighter. Will Hastings killed his brother."

 _And he was coming_ here _to talk to Bones,_ he added silently as he made his way across the lab toward Brennan's office. Her blinds were closed, but he could hear her voice, and his hand was on his gun before he'd completely registered what she was saying.

"Look, I'm… flattered by your attention, but I am very happily in a committed, monogamous relationship."

Booth heaved a sigh of relief that she'd chosen to stay close to meet with Will, and he stepped through her office doorway cautiously.

"Bones," he said softly, taking in her slightly defensive stance as she stood a few feet away from the couch where Will sat, still leaning toward her. "You okay?"

"Of course," she said promptly. Brennan felt slightly irritated, assuming that Booth thought he was coming to rescue her from Will's unwanted affections. But her eyes flickered down to his right hand where it rested on his gun, and she understood that his behavior had a different meaning.

Brennan met his eyes in shock and nodded vaguely before crossing the room to stand next to him. Booth moved to stand slightly in front of her before he addressed Will.

"You're under arrest for the murder of your brother, Graham Hastings."

"What?" Will asked, looking back and forth between the two of them in surprise. Booth quietly relayed Cam and Hodgins' findings to Brennan without looking back at her, but Will could hear his words perfectly well. "I didn't kill Graham. We fought, that's all," he insisted.

"You were out there in the woods that night?" Brennan asked, scowling at him in disgust.

"Please don't look at me like that. Please. I was just helping my brother. He said the film was going to make him famous."

"So you got the animal bones, the blood, and you made the chopping sound with the axe," Booth supplied, inching closer to the man as he spoke.

Will broke down as he explained that Graham had asked him to throw blood on Lori, but that he had refused. At the point, Graham had done it himself, and since he'd drugged Lori, she went crazy, as was evident on the video footage. Will claimed to have been so disgusted by his brother's behavior that he hit him with the axe, but when it came to the beheading and burial, he became even more emotional.

" _She_ did it," he insisted, eyes filling with tears. "She did it. Maggie Cinders was out there that night and she _made me do it_ …"

Brennan listened in horror to his tearful confession, wondering how on earth she could've misread the man so completely. When she couldn't stand to hear anymore, she nudged Booth gently from behind.

"What are you waiting for, Booth?"

Booth read Will his rights and cuffed him, turning back toward her briefly as he led the man out the door.

"The food's in Cam's office. Eat some dinner and wait for me, okay? I'll be back to pick you up."

Brennan nodded her assent and watched him lead Will across the lab and through the glass doors, sighing deeply as she sank into her desk chair and dropped her head into her hands.

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"How did I miss that?" Brennan asked, shaking her head sadly. Booth stepped into her office and came to lean against her desk.

"Well, you know… Our perceptions are always colored by what we hope and what we fear… what we _love_ ," he said, smiling softly. "We do the best we can." He reached out and took her hand, his eyes tracing over her saddened features.

"I'm afraid my best isn't good enough. I can read bones, not people. I thought… I hoped I was getting better at it," she admitted.

"Well, you have no trouble seeing through me," he granted. She grinned back at him, feeling her mood lift as he continued. "And you know, Bones, you've gotten a lot better at reading people than you were when we first started out as partners. I've watched you pick up on subtleties in interrogations, I've seen you successfully intimidate suspects when it was called for… And I _know_ you must've given Angela some really great advice, cause I'm pretty sure she and Hodgins are knockin' boots."

"I don't know what that means," Brennan replied promptly, though her smile widened at his praise.

"It means… you know they're _getting busy_." Brennan looked at him blankly for another moment before her expression cleared.

"You mean they're engaging in sexual intercourse," she concluded.

"Making love, Bones," he corrected, trying not to show the exhaustion he felt for the argument.

"I know the difference," she assured him. "You taught me. What we do is lovemaking because we love each other." Booth smiled at the confidence in her voice, and she continued. "I know that Hodgins loves Angela because he told me."

"He told you that? When?" Booth regretted the question almost immediately when a shadow seemed to cross her features. "Oh."

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "I don't know if Angela loves him in return though. But...I think she will eventually if she doesn't already. Or at least I hope so. It would be nice if they could be happy the way we are."

"I hope so too, Bones." Booth smiled at her and took both of her hands, pulling her gently out of her office chair and into his embrace. The hugged for several long moments before the growling of his stomach interrupted, and Brennan chuckled softly into his chest.

"I saved you some food. It's in the lounge refrigerator."

"Thanks, Bones." He leaned back slightly, encouraging her to do the same, and he pressed a soft kiss to her upturned mouth.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Let's go home."

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"I still can't believe I get to stay with you and Bones for a whole week at Christmas, Daddy!" They were sorting through Booth's collection of Christmas ornaments to decide which ones would go on the tree they'd just assembled.

"I know, buddy; it's gonna be awesome, huh?" Booth handed a non-breakable ornament to Parker and hung a more fragile one toward the top. Brennan watched them from the couch, smiling softly over her steaming cup of tea.

"Can we go sledding?"

"If we get enough snow, sure. Maybe we'll get enough to build a snowman too."

"Or a fort!"

"We can have an epic snowball battle!"

"Yeah!"

Brennan chuckled softly, feeling slightly unsure as to which of them was more mature. She loved watching Booth with his son. He was lighthearted and playful, patient and generous. Not that he wasn't all of those things even when Parker wasn't around, but there was a certain quality in his features, a gleam in his eye, perhaps, that was only discernible when he was with his son.

"Come on, Bones, I've got a couple that you have to hang yourself," Booth told her, pulling her out of her thoughts. Brennan raised her brows in surprise. She hadn't decorated a Christmas tree in fifteen years.

"Why me?" she asked, smiling in confusion.

"Because it's Christmas, Bones!" Parker answered. "We have to decorate the tree together. Then we bake cookies," he added eagerly. Booth smiled and held a hand out to her, and Brennan placed her mug on a coaster before allowing him to pull her to her feet.

Parker was busily hanging the non-breakable ornaments that Booth had set aside for him, and Brennan could tell the they would need to do a bit of reorganizing for the sake of symmetry once Parker went to bed. She shared a conspiratorial look with Booth and complimented Parker on his work anyway.

"Okay, Bones… You get to hang this one," Booth announced, handing her an ornament crafted to look like a tiny articulated skeleton. The bones swung back and forth as he placed it in her hand, and Brennan's eyes lit up when she read the tiny scroll fashioned above it: _World's Greatest Anthropologist_.

"Booth! Where did you get this?" she asked incredulously. Booth's breath hitched slightly at the joy reflecting back in her beautiful eyes.

"I ordered it from a customizing place online," he admitted, watching her hang the ornament next to an antique one that had belonged to his grandmother. He felt a warmth in his chest at the sight of the two together, loving the visual proof that she was part of his family. "Which is also where I got… _this_ one," he added, lifting another ornament to show her.

This one he'd chosen a little more carefully. It was Swarovski crystal, shaped like a snowflake and beveled on the edges. The open space in the middle was engraved with script-like writing, and Brennan's eyes misted slightly as she read the three-lined inscription. _Booth and Bones. Our First Christmas. 2006._

Brennan's throat felt constricted as she met his gaze, and her eyes told him everything she couldn't speak aloud in that moment. He smiled back at her lovingly and placed a soft kiss upon her lips. They hung the ornament together, and Booth stepped behind her to wrap his arms around her waist, watching the colored lights illuminate the crystal from behind.

Brennan leaned back against his chest with a deep sigh and felt, for the first time in so long, that she was actually looking forward to Christmas this year.

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About a week before Christmas, Brennan found herself in a conference room, watching her graduate student cringe nervously at the faces of her colleagues as he answered various questions about his doctoral dissertation. Because she knew Zack so well, she noticed things like his compulsive finger twitching and his habit of pursing his lips so many times that he appeared to have a transient tic. She tried to reassure him with her eyes, but Zack wasn't as good at reading things like that, and his anxiety didn't seem to ease at all.

She was distracted by the sudden appearance of her partner, and her eyes widened as he strolled boldly into the room, interrupting a rather formal proceeding.

"Hey, Bones! Come on, we've got a body. Went up like a roman candle," Booth announced eagerly. He came right around the table to stand behind her chair, pulling it out before she could form a coherent response. "Hey, Zack! How's it going?"

"So far they don't like me."

"Shocker," he retorted before turning back to Brennan and lifting her gently from her seat. "Come on, let's go!"

"What? I'm in the middle of something," she argued.

"Well, you know, real life murder and mutilation versus academic claptrap? No contest." He glanced at Professor Wright who was watching the partners curiously. "I'm sorry, no offense."

"This committee can continue without you, Dr. Brennan," the woman said coolly. Brennan leaned toward Zack as she passed and instructed him to focus on answering the questions. He only had time to nod vaguely in response before Booth was urging her out the door.

"Was that really necessary?" Brennan asked as they climbed into the SUV.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I know it was a big day for him. Or for both of you, rather… But I really need you on this one, Bones. The techs are already at the scene."

"Then drive faster," she encouraged him, looking alarmed at the thought of underqualified - by her standards at least - FBI techs compromising her remains.

They arrived at the crime scene fairly quickly, and Brennan had to admit that it was one of the more disturbing scenes she'd been called to analyze. The body was draped like a scarecrow over a T-shaped metal pole, and most of the soft tissue had been consumed by fire.

"Male… Middle-aged," Brennan said, squinting at the blackened skull. Booth jotted the information on his notecards.

"So if they approve Zack's dissertation, he gets his doctorate?"

"Yes," she replied, leaning down to pick up a long, tubercle-looking piece of soft tissue. "I think _these_ are what's left of his intestines," she announced, holding them up for him to see.

"Is he gonna make it?" Booth asked, cringing slightly at his partner's tenacity.

"No, he's very dead." Brennan chuckled at him, and he smiled at the sound.

"I mean Zack."

"Mmm… Fifty-fifty."

"He's a stoolie," Booth deduced, glancing in disgust at the body.

"Zack?"

"Our victim. You know, he's a rat. A snitch."

"What makes you say that?'

"His guts got spilled," Booth replied, as though it should be obviously. "You know, 'spill your guts?'"

"Very literal," she commented.

"Yeah, hanging up there like a scarecrow on a rooftop of a hotel that used to house witnesses. It's a warning." Booth watched her curiously as she pried the victim's mouth open.

"Oh look… There's something jammed down his trachea…"

"Can you get it out?"

"Maybe, but I'd rather wait until he's back in the lab. Less chance of compromising whatever the object is."

Booth gave her a ride back to the lab and told her he'd be back to check on things once he'd touched base with his agents.

"I could just call you when we have something, Booth," she reminded him gently. Brennan had noticed how much more time he spent at the lab than he ever did before they got together, and although she liked that he was around, she didn't want to interfere with his work at the office.

"You could. But I like being there with you. I promise not to hover," he grinned.

"I know. You don't do that… usually." Brennan smirked, recalling that he really only hovered when there was a dangerous situation. She did her best to put up with it at times like that.

"And I can make calls from my cell just as easily as my desk phone…" Booth leaned across the center console to kiss her goodbye, maintaining the connection for slightly longer than was appropriate considering the fact that they were parked right in front of the building. A few pedestrians rubber-necked to watch them, and after a few minutes, a horn honked from behind them. Brennan pulled back with a reluctant sigh, wondering if he might be up for a trip to their supply closet later.

"Love you, Bones," Booth said with a wide grin, looking as though he knew exactly what she'd been thinking. She smiled back at him and pulled her bag onto her shoulder.

"I love you too."

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Cam was able to pull not one but two foreign objects from the victim's mouth. The first was a folded piece of paper on which the words ' _My name is Garrett Delaney'_ were written in red ink. The second object was a silver coin: an American half-dollar bearing the profile of Christopher Columbus.

Before Brennan could join the rest of the team in the autopsy room to discuss the findings, however, she was surprised by an unexpected visitor in her office.

"Hey, Tempe," Russ greeted her with a hesitant smile.

"Russ. Why are you here? Is everything okay?" Brennan accepted his gentle hug but pulled back quickly to meet his gaze. She and Booth were expecting Russ and his family to visit over Christmas, but his early appearance had her concerned.

"Yeah… Mostly."

"Are Amy and the girls with you?"

"No… Look, can we sit down?" he asked, collapsing into the chair she indicated. He took a deep breath to steel himself for what he was about to do. He had to lie to her, and he hated himself for it.

"What's going on?" Brennan asked once she had taken the seat across from him.

"Dad called me," he said bluntly. Russ held his breath while he watched the emotions play across her features. Shock, disbelief...hope.

"Dad called you? You're sure it was him?" Russ nodded, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

"He said 'You and your sister are in danger,' and he hung up."

Brennan's expression changed to one of amusement, and for a moment, Russ wondered if she could see through him. Because he hadn't just received a call from Max Keenan. He had actually _seen_ his father. Just a few weeks ago, Max had convinced him to disappear into the woods for several days under the guise of a 'fishing trip,' and they had finally discussed some things that had been left unsaid for far too long.

"I spend nearly all of my time with a sniper-trained FBI agent. I feel safe," she assured him.

"Tempe, I _know_ someone is watching me," Russ said insistently. That part was true, and Max seemed to have known it before Russ had brought it up.

"What's your evidence?" Brennan pressed, and Russ couldn't help but snort inwardly at the way some things really didn't change.

"I can feel it on the back of my neck. When you spend some time in prison, you develop a sixth sense." Brennan's expression became harder to read, and her mind automatically went to Booth and his 'gut instincts.'

"Maybe you should stay with us for a few days," she offered. While Russ appreciated the offer, that hadn't been what he'd had in mind. Max was waiting for him in a hotel room, preparing for the next phase of the plan he'd come up with to keep his children safe, and although he'd only told Russ a few details, Russ knew that doing his part would be a bit harder if he was staying with his sister and, more specifically, with Booth.

"No, Tempe, I have work. I have Amy and the girls…" He stood and paced away from her in the hopes that she wouldn't be able to catch his deception.

"What about your sixth sense?" she retorted, and the smirk she was wearing when he turned to face her again made his own lips curve upward.

"Hey!"

"What?" she laughed.

"You can't not believe in something one second and then use it against me in the next."

"It's a long drive," she shrugged. "You can start fresh tomorrow, and I've got cold beer in the fridge." She held her keychain toward him invitingly.

"No, don't drink the Moroccan beer. It tastes like earwax," Booth advised, strolling into Brennan's office. "How you doing, Russ?"

"Okay, Booth. You good?" he replied, shaking the agent's hand. Booth was looking at him in a way that left him feeling slightly unnerved, and Russ knew that the best thing to do would be to leave sooner rather than later. He held his hands open toward Brennan, and she tossed him the keys.

"Wait, Russ," she stopped him, pulling a notepad toward her and scribbling something hastily onto the blank paper. She ripped off the top sheet and handed it to him. "The address of the new house and the instructions for the alarm. There's a panel by the front door."

Russ took it and thanked her, avoiding Booth's gaze as he left her office. Booth glanced after him briefly before focusing on Brennan.

"I still make him nervous, don't I? Come on, let's go." Booth pulled her out of her chair by her arm, and she began to protest immediately.

"What? Why do I always feel like you're _abducting_ me?" she said, smacking his arm the way little girls swatted at boys on the playground. The last swat, however, landed on his ass. Booth chuckled, pulling her jacket from the hook and helping her into it. The green shirt she'd chosen that day made her skin almost glow somehow, and although Booth had brought her along for a sweep of the victim's apartment, he found himself wishing they had time for other activities. Particularly since they would apparently have company that night.

"You're just lucky I'm not throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you out of here," he whispered into her ear.

"After you beat me over the head with your club like the Neanderthal you are?" she joked.

"Something like that. Come on."

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On the way to Garrett Delaney's apartment, Brennan told him what Russ had said about Max's phone call. Booth was equally surprised, but he did take a moment to appreciate that Max Keenan seemed to be a man of few words, at least when it came to phone calls. Booth recalled the last time Max had broken radio silence in the interest of protecting his kids, and he had to suppress a shudder. However, he did have to chuckle a bit at Brennan's unamused reference to Russ's sixth sense.

They arrived at Delaney's home a short while later, and Booth explained that the man had been a former FBI agent. He had left the Bureau roughly fifteen years ago and had gone into the private security sector. Brennan discovered that one of the doors was locked, and Booth couldn't hold back his smile when he saw the object in her hand. It was a credit card.

"What are you doing?" he asked, grinning proudly at her. She glanced back at him, a little embarrassed.

"I've been practicing some of the black ops stuff you showed me," she admitted. Several months ago, during an argument that was more foreplay than fight, they'd bickered about which of them had more capabilities for stealth. They had spent an enjoyable afternoon taking turns jimmying the locks on the doors of their new home.

Booth swaggered toward her and nudged her out of the way. "Let me show you," he smirked, taking the credit card from her hand. Brennan, however, was still thinking about Max.

"Every FBI agent in the country is looking for my father. Maybe he's just trying to scare us off."

"Six months without a break in the case? He's not gonna be nervous."

"My dad's a career criminal," she pointed out insistently. "Just because he says Russ is in danger doesn't mean it's the truth."

Booth didn't want to argue about it at that moment, especially since he was fairly certain that Max had been telling the truth. He kicked the locked door open roughly, and the sight that greeted them when Brennan switched on the light only solidified Booth's opinion about Max's phone call.

"Whoa. He might've gotten it right this time," Booth mumbled, looking grim as his eyes swept the opposite wall. It was covered with pictures of Russ, and Booth recognized the angles instantly. They were sniper shots.

"Russ… These are all pictures of Russ."

Booth studied each one, checking that Brennan was nowhere in the photos and breathing a guilty sigh of relief when he didn't find her. They collected the photos and called a tech team to sweep the apartment for any evidence of foul play. Booth gave them their instructions while Brennan was on the phone with Russ, asking him to meet them at the Hoover.

They sat in a conference room less than an hour later and laid the photos out for Russ. He grew visibly paler with each new photo.

"Me at work, me and Amy… This is the day before yesterday… Dad was right. Someone's watching." His words were spoken to himself almost as much as to anyone else, and Booth's next statement made it even worse.

"This is worse than watching."

"What do you mean?"

"This is hunting."

" _Hunting,"_ Russ parroted in disbelief.

"As in kill. You see these right here?" Booth asked, pointing to a dotted line inked in red on top of one of the pictures. Odd numbers were written next to the line. "These are ranges. He's picking out a spot from which to shoot at you."

"The hunter's dead; the hunt is over, right?" Brennan asked hopefully. Booth shook his head minutely but continued to address Russ.

"Anyone else know you're here?"

"Only Amy," Russ lied, keeping his eye focused on the pictures.

"Great. You should call Amy and tell her that if anyone calls looking for you, she doesn't know where you are." Booth tossed Russ his cell phone, and he caught it reluctantly. The last thing he'd wanted was to pull his girlfriend into this mess.

"You should stay at our place until we find out why Delaney wanted to kill you," Brennan said, adopting the same no-nonsense tone she'd learned to use with Parker about brushing his teeth. Russ looked back at her doubtfully.

"How are you gonna do that?"

"By finding out who killed _him_."

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Booth liked Hodgins most days, but today he happened to find the 'bug man' extremely annoying. While Brennan spent time analyzing the evidence, Hodgins had dragged him into a dark corner of the lab and eagerly thrust a report into his hand. Apparently Angela had been able to restore more of the paper that had been shoved down Delaney's throat, and it appeared to have been a letter of some sort, insisting upon the innocence of a man named Marvin Beckett. Beckett had been sentenced to life in prison for killing an FBI agent named Augustus Harper in 1978.

Booth grumbled in irritation as Hodgins repeatedly invaded his personal space while he attempted to read the document he'd just been handed.

"1970s, Ohio," Hodgins said animatedly. "There's a task force made up of FBI, state police, and local cops. It goes bad; they start taking a cut from the same bank robbers they're supposed to be catching…" Booth's memory flickered intuitively, and he wondered if Hodgins even recognized the implications of what he'd said. "Well, then they conspire to plant a stack of stolen money on Marvin Beckett. _Then_ , this Agent Harper, he decides he can't live with that and decides to blow the whistle."

"I can read," Booth snapped, slapping Hodgins' hand away from the paper he was holding.

"The same guy who was gonna blow the whistle on them for framing Marvin Beckett then gets _murdered_ by Marvin Beckett? Come on! Talk about killing two birds with one stone."

"Great. Who else knows about this?" Booth asked, willing him to stop chattering.

"Us and you, that's it."

"Let's keep it that way."

"I've seen this movie," Hodgins narrowed his eyes sardonically. "I get killed on the way home."

"Then don't go home," Booth snarked, walking away. Hodgins shouted after him to ask if he was serious, but Booth didn't reply.

His mind was racing with the possibilities. There were simply too many coincidences. _Ohio in '78,_ he mused. _The task force had been the same one assigned to apprehend the Strong Arm crew that the Keenans had gotten entangled with. Together, they had conspired to frame Marvin Beckett and kill Gus Harper? And now someone from one of the groups was after Max Keenan's kids?_

Booth was having Gus Harper's widow brought in for questioning shortly, and he knew that Brennan would need to come with him. There was no chance in hell she was leaving his sight until this mess was sorted out.

Though he would probably need to rephrase that when he spoke to her…

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Brennan came with him to the Hoover when he told her that they needed to speak to Barbara Harper. On the short SUV ride, he tried to come up with the right words to tell Brennan that the threat Max had warned about on her answering machine was most likely true. Nothing seemed to come to him, however, and he decided that perhaps he could talk to Brennan and her brother about it when they went home. It was already dark, and Booth was determined to talk her out of returning to the lab after their interview.

"I was married to Gus Harper thirty years ago for exactly eight months," Barbara Harper told them. Booth and Brennan sat at the conference table with her. "I'm not sure I can help you."

"What about the contents of the note?" Booth asked gently, pushing the scan of the letter toward her. Barbara ignored his question and asked one of her own, looking a bit surly.

"What do you people want?"

"The truth," Brennan replied.

"The last time the FBI came to talk to me, they told me to keep my mouth shut or I wouldn't get my husband's death benefits."

Booth's jaw clenched, and he exchanged a quick glance with Brennan and knew that she understood his frustration. There was little he hated more than corruption.

"Your husband was a good man, and he tried to do the right thing. And he ended up dead. I can't let that stand," Booth told her. Brennan felt a rush of pride at his words.

"The FBI murdered Gus. Then they held a state funeral for him," Barbara said bitterly. "Complete with the grieving widow as the centerpiece."

"Is this your husband's handwriting?" Brennan asked, pushing the scan toward her.

"Yes. He was compiling evidence."

"And there's more?" Booth pressed.

"There was a diary, a dozen audio tapes, field notes…"

"Where did Gus keep it?"

"Safety deposit box."

"Can you tell us where that safety deposit box was?" he encouraged her.

"Ohio First Savings and Loan. In Dayton."

Brennan's eyes snapped to his, widening in sudden comprehension, and she left the room abruptly. Booth excused himself and joined her, sliding the door shut behind them. He could see the anxiety in her eyes, but before he could open his mouth to calm her, she was speaking.

"My parents _robbed_ that exact bank just days after Gus Harper was killed. They were looking for that evidence. That has to be why Delaney was stalking Russ."

Booth looked back at her sadly and ran his hands up and down the length of her arms, hoping to sooth her. Brennan was too stunned to notice that he didn't seem to be as surprised by the revelation as she had been.

"Go wait in my office. I have a few more questions for Barbara Harper, okay? We'll go home in a few minutes, alright?

"Okay…" Brennan nodded, slightly tearful and walked toward his office. Booth watched her go with a worried expression on his face before stepping back into the conference room.

He needed answers. They both did.

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 ***sigh* Things are getting intense again. Brennan really had a rough couple of months.**

 **That scene with Parker actually wasn't in my notes and kind of just happened, but I figure a little levity before shit gets real is probably a good thing. See you Tuesday!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Welcome back! Thank you for the great feedback and support. :)**

 **You will notice that this chapter follows the show in most ways. There are added BB scenes and dialogue as always, but I did have to squeeze in something new that you'll probably pick up on right away. I'll explain why at the end. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 20

Russ was thankful for whatever had his sister too distracted to notice his discomfort. Shortly before she and Booth had gotten home, he had received a call from Max. His father had explained his plans for the following day, and Russ was extremely nervous that his sister was going to see right through the whole thing. Sure, he hadn't recognized Max at first, but his voice wasn't that different. Not to mention the fact that his sister was actually _trained_ to see through Max's disguise…

Booth had gone upstairs to shower as soon as they'd gotten home, needing the hot water to ease the tension from his shoulders a little. This left Brennan on her own with Russ, feeling extremely distracted by what they'd learned earlier that evening. The new information had left her with even more questions, and her emotions were every bit as erratic as her thoughts.

As most parents tend to do when trying to fill an awkward silence, Russ and Brennan decided to talk about their kids. Russ had brought the girls' latest school pictures, and they talked about their upcoming Christmas plans.

"Parker is really excited about having other kids in the house at Christmas," Brennan said, smiling fondly at the memory of his last weekend visit. "Even if they _are_ girls," she quoted him.

"The girls are excited too," Russ agreed. "So you guys got everything worked out with Parker's mom and the visitation stuff?"

"Yes," Brennan smiled. "He gets to be with us for a whole week between Christmas and New Year's. Then for a few weeks in the summer, and we'll alternate Thanksgivings and Spring Breaks… It's been really good for him. Booth too."

Brennan's thoughts drifted as she gazed at her nieces' photos. She hadn't seen her brother or his family since she and Booth had spent time with them in August, but they had all gotten along remarkably well. She thought of the upcoming holiday and wondered if they would still have this case hanging over their heads while they celebrated.

"So, I'm… I decided to propose to Amy," Russ said, pulling her out of her musings. Brennan smiled happily.

"That's great, Russ. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

The pair lapsed into silence again, each thinking about the news Russ had just delivered. Brennan found herself considering the concept of marriage somewhat passively, and without her permission, her mind called up an image of herself marrying Booth. To her surprise, the image was not at all unpleasant. Brennan wondered when her perceptions had changed, but before she could think too much more about it, Booth thudded down the stairs to join them.

They'd already eaten, so Booth felt that he really couldn't delay the conversation they needed to have any longer. He dug through his briefcase and pulled out a file, coming to sit beside Brennan on the couch. She offered him a drink of her beer, and he took a quick swig before getting down to business.

"Okay… Gus Harper's service history," Booth announced, flipping through the file. "He was assigned to the joint state and federal bank robbery task force." He handed Brennan a black and white photo.

"The victim," she replied, recognizing Delaney's bone structure.

"Back when he was Special Agent Delaney _supervising_ Gus Harper," Booth confirmed.

"The guy that was hunting me," Russ clarified, taking a look at the photo as well.

"That's right." Booth paused nervously, handing Brennan a document. "Okay, here's a list of the bank robbers with their FBI code names."

"Dad's code name was Columbus," she mused, her intuition prickling unpleasantly as she read the list. Booth tossed a few more photographs onto the coffee table and announced the code names for each. "All named after explorers," Brennan commented.

"That's Mom and Dad," Russ said, pointing to two familiar faces.

"Every one of these people are now deceased," Booth said uncomfortably.

"Except for Dad," Brennan clarified. Booth pulled a small evidence bag from his pocket and held it up by the object inside of it. A Columbus half-dollar.

"Delaney was killed to send a message to the FBI. This Columbus coin was found in the victim's mouth." He held his breath while Brennan reached for the coin and studied it briefly.

"Columbus… shot a man in the head, hung him from a pole, _gutted_ him… and set him on fire. And _Columbus_ … is our father." Brennan's voice shook slightly, but Booth was the only one to hear it. Russ returned his sister's stricken expression and wondered for a moment if perhaps he should come clean about what was going on between him and Max.

Brennan was reeling. She vaguely registered the weight of Booth's arm as he draped it over her shoulders, and she continued to stare at the Columbus coin in shock. First Peter, then McVicar, and now this? _And this murder was more violent than either of the others,_ she recalled. _How many times had he done this?_ Brennan silently reviewed the facts, horrified by their implications. The evidence had been insufficient and inconclusive in Peter's murder, and only Brennan, Booth, and the squints knew that Max had even been in the house that day. No one had been able to convince Mitchell Downs to confess that Max Keenan had hired him to kill McVicar. _He's covered his tracks well,_ she thought. _Like he knows exactly what he's doing._

Booth waited for one of the others to say something, but they were both so stunned by the revelation that when Russ did finally speak up, his words weren't at all what Booth was expecting.

"Tempe said you guys have a...guest room?" he asked vacantly.

"Yeah, I'll show you," Booth replied softly. "Bones… Let's go to bed, okay?" Brennan gave a vague nod and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

It wasn't until they were in bed a while later that Brennan finally located her voice again.

"I don't understand how I'm supposed to feel about this, Booth…" He wrapped his arms tightly around her and pressed his lips into her soft hair.

"Maybe… Maybe we shouldn't make assumptions about anything just yet. We'll get to the bottom of this. We just have to do what we do best," he said, hoping to calm her. But Brennan was too upset to be soothed by his words.

"And then what? Find my father and prosecute him? Send him to jail for the rest of his life? That hotel was in Maryland, and Maryland has the death penalty. How am I… How can…" Hot tears landed on Booth's bare chest, and he shushed her gently, rubbing her back to quiet her sobs. It was another few minutes before she could speak again. "How do I resolve the conflict of interest?"

"I know you'll be impartial, Bones," he replied after a moment's thought. "Until we can prove whether or not it was Max, there's no legal reason you can't work the case. This makes him one of many suspects. We still have to track down the rest of the taskforce and anyone else who may have been connected that we might not know about yet. Besides… I know you'll want to find out the truth for yourself. So that you can trust it."

Brennan nodded, feeling sick to her stomach.

"Just when I think I have a handle on my family's past, something else comes up and throws me for a loop," she muttered. Booth raised his brows at the unexpected colloquialism.

"I'm surprised you know what that means," he teased her gently, earning a tiny smile in the darkness.

"My mom used to say it. And I do know _some_ things," she insisted stubbornly.

"Sure you do, baby." They chuckled together and snuggled into one another a little more. Booth kissed her softly, moving from her lips to her cheeks, and when she closed her eyes, he placed a kiss on each eyelid as well.

Brennan listened to the sound of his heartbeat, pulsing at a steadily slower rate beneath her ear and lulling her into a deep sleep.

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Brennan emerged from their bedroom the next morning freshly showered and wrapped in a silk robe, and when she entered the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, she found Russ digging into a bowl of Booth and Parker's sugar-loaded cereal.

"Did you sleep okay?" she asked politely.

"Yeah. I slept better than the _last_ time I stayed in your guest room. Or the last time you stayed in _mine_ ," he replied with a wry half-smile.

Brennan's eyes narrowed in confusion for a moment, but the challenging expression he was giving her triggered her memory of a similar one he'd worn during their trip. She blushed slightly and tried to look appropriately chastised.

"Good," Brennan said awkwardly before turning to the coffee pot. Russ watched her in silence for a few moments before bringing up what was obviously on both their minds.

"You know… Maybe this is all happening because you guys didn't stop looking for Dad like he said. I mean, he had it under control for fifteen years, and everything was fine."

"You _agreed_ we should look for him, Russ," she scoffed. "Plus, all we have is a voice tape of Dad saying 'Back Off' and a little silver dolphin that I found at Mom's grave. Other than that, there's no evidence at this point. Only speculation."

"Are you sure that Booth hasn't learned more and just not told you about it?"

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"I know you're in a relationship and all, but he's FBI. You're not. You're the daughter of a career criminal and the sister of a loser on parole."

"Hey. I would never let anyone else call you a loser, Russ. What makes you think you're allowed?"

"Thanks, I love you too," he grinned. She returned his smile but didn't want to let his earlier statement stand.

"Booth and I don't keep secrets."

Russ shrugged and nodded, bringing another spoonful of cereal to his mouth.

"Do you think Dad really killed Delaney?" Russ asked nervously.

"He killed my ex," she pointed out. "Quickly and efficiently, from the looks of things. It's pretty clear that our father has no qualms about killing someone if he thinks it's justified. It makes him a good suspect for Delaney's murder."

"You sound like a cop," he chuckled, shaking his head. Brennan rolled her eyes and headed back upstairs to finish getting ready for work.

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Booth was adjusting his tie in the mirror when Brennan came back into the room and shut the door quietly behind her. He smiled at her automatically and quickly deciphered the expression on her face, smirking slightly at his own reflection.

"Booth…" He shuddered a bit at the lilting quality of her voice as she spoke his name.

"Hmmm?"

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Did what, baby?" he asked, feigning innocence. Brennan wasn't fooled, and she eyed him hungrily as she stepped closer.

"You chose the gray suit to distract me?" she guessed.

"Oh that… Well, maybe." He grinned at her and shrugged his shoulders in an exaggerated movement. "That's not _all_ …"

Brennan's fingers slipped beneath his suit jacket to find the leather straps of his shoulder holster, and she moaned reflexively. A quick glance downward brought the cocky belt buckle to her attention as well, and she caught his lips in a deep kiss, swallowing his groan of arousal. His hands were quickly untying the sash on her silk robe in search of the smooth skin concealed beneath it, and Brennan practically purred when she felt his fingertips at her breasts. She trailed her lips downward over his jaw, tasting the skin of his neck greedily.

"Mmmm… Bones…"

"Shhh."

"No, Bones…" Booth pulled away from her reluctantly, and he chuckled at her pouting expression. "I wish we had time for more, but we don't. I'm meeting Caroline this morning, and if we don't leave in the next ten minutes, I'll be late. You and I both know we would need more than that, and Caroline, well…"

"I remember, Booth. You shouldn't be late," she agreed ruefully, recalling the prosecutor's no-nonsense attitude when they'd met in New Orleans. "Do you think she'll help?"

"I hope so," he replied, dropping one more kiss onto her still-pouting lips. He straightened his clothing a little and began to load his pockets with their customary contents. Brennan got dressed quickly and put on a little makeup before stepping into a pair of shoes that she usually reserved for days she expected to be lengthy.

"Don't forget about Parker's Christmas program at school tonight," she reminded him as they descended the stairs. He smiled at her for remembering.

"Yeah, I know. I'll pick you up, okay?" Brennan nodded and said a quick goodbye to Russ before heading into the garage. She heard Booth say something to Russ on their way out, shaking her head at the words 'ESPN' and 'beef jerky.'

 _Men_.

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Booth dropped Brennan at the lab and made his way to the diner, relieved to see that Caroline Julian was just then taking a seat at the counter. He'd been pleased to hear that she'd moved to DC over the summer and even happier when it turned out that she would be working directly with their team on some of their more difficult cases. Caroline was extremely competent at her job, and she was a good ally to have on their side.

"You're looking quite a bit better than the last time I saw you, Seeley Booth."

"Since New Orleans? Yeah, I don't doubt it." Booth smiled in acknowledgment of the fact that he'd probably looked like hell on that trip. He'd been running on too little sleep and had been extremely stressed about Brennan's safety. As far as the latter was concerned, today didn't feel much different.

"That girlfriend of yours taking good care of you, Cher?"

"Always."

Caroline nodded, looking satisfied, and asked why he'd wanted to see her. Booth explained the situation as succinctly as possible, recalling that Caroline had a preference for brevity. However, her expression grew steadily darker as she understood what he needed from her.

"What you're asking is the kind of thing that destroys careers," she groused. "From the time I was a little girl, I dreamed of putting bad men in jail. Which is why I became an Assistant United States Attorney."

"Okay, look… You don't have to help me-"

"Of course I have to help you. Marvin Beckett is still a hero to a lot of African Americans. Some of us never believed he killed this FBI boy. Now you buy me breakfast, tell me you found a way to clear his name, release him out of wrongful incarceration after thirty years? I can not walk away… _which you already know._ "

Booth tried to cover his smile with his coffee cup and suggested she have some more coffee herself.

"Of course I want more coffee. We have to come up with our plan of attack."

"Okay, well I was thinking Judge Moran-"

"We should exhume Gus Harper," she interrupted, not listening. "See if your genius, scientist girlfriend can ascertain whether he died in the manner the FBI said he died thirty years ago."

"Moran's got a long-"

"No. We want Kemper."

Booth decided not to argue again, and he left the diner with the understanding that she would call him once she'd filed the exhumation request.

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While Booth was meeting with Caroline, Brennan was getting an update from Zack on the status of the analysis. He'd found a .22 caliber bullet lodged in Delaney's sinus cavity as well as evidence that it had ricocheted around the inside of his skull.

"You worried about your doctorate?" she asked absently, studying the evidence.

"No. Dr. Grayson touched me with an open hand on the shoulder," Zack replied confidently. Brennan looked at him in concern.

"You mean inappropriately?"

Zack launched into a long-winded description of something he'd read in a book about body language, which indicated that an open-handed pat to the shoulder conveyed approval. Brennan filed that information away, but before she could respond properly, she was hailed by a security guard, informing her that she had visitors.

She found them waiting near her office doorway, and she was surprised to discover that one of them was Russ. The other was an older man she didn't recognize, most likely owing to the fact that he appeared to be a Catholic priest.

"Russ! What are you doing here?" The concern in her voice was obvious, but Russ waved her off and introduced her to the older man.

Max Keenan couldn't seem to keep the smile off of his face as his son introduced him as Father Toby Coulter. He shook her hand, feeling his chest ache with the emotion of being able to see her so close again - conscious this time. The FBI investigation had driven him back underground after he'd helped to save her from Peter, but when one of his contacts had made him aware that Delaney was tracking Russ, he'd felt he had no choice but to approach his son in person.

Russ had been shocked to see him, and after Max had heard about his daughter's incident with the Gravedigger, he'd been desperate to see her again and to come up with a reasonable excuse to confront her. This business of his old enemies targeting his children needed to be dealt with, but getting to be so near them was an added benefit.

Max knew he was still grinning like an idiot as his kids discussed the misdeeds of his youth, shared with the person he was pretending to be, but he couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from his daughter. He'd never seen her in her labcoat before, and the sight of her in this place, looking so professional and grown up had him swelling with pride. He felt his smile stretch even wider when her eyes lit up at the appearance of her partner from the staircase behind Max.

Booth joined the conversation, and when Brennan introduced him, Max enjoyed the opportunity to be able to size him up in person. Max was pleased to find that Booth's handshake was firm, his posture confident and assertive…and he looked at his daughter as though she were the only person in the room.

"Tempe, Father Coulter has a message from Dad," Russ announced, once the pleasantries were out of the way.

"It's a private message," Max added. Brennan nodded warily.

"Come to my office."

They filed through her doorway, and Max looked at Booth uncertainly for a moment, wanting to include him but knowing that 'Father Coulter' wouldn't think that way.

"She's just gonna tell Agent Booth anyway," Russ said, noticing Max's wavering. "Might as well let him listen.

Russ and Brennan took the chairs while Booth and Max settled themselves on the couch, and Brennan scrutinized the man for a moment, trying to put a finger on the vague familiarity she felt with him. She supposed that at some point, she must've met him or seen a picture of him as a child. Booth had felt the same flicker of recognition when he'd heard the man speak, but he couldn't remember ever having met a priest by the name of Coulter. He felt as though it was probably something that would only come to him when he stopped trying to remember.

"'Back off.' That's the message. He said you'd understand," Max told them.

"Where'd you see him?" Booth asked, his eyes darting at Brennan solicitously.

"In confession."

"We're not Catholic," Brennan argued.

"Well, the sanctity of the confessional is extended to all," Booth informed her. "Um…did he ever call you on your cell phone, Father?"

"Two days ago," Max confirmed. Booth asked to see his phone, and Max offered it willingly, watching as the agent wrote down the number so that he could run a trace.

"So, Max Keenan… He came to you for absolution?"

"Well, I'm sure you know the requirements for confession," Max replied, remembering that Booth was Catholic from the research he'd done when Booth and his daughter had started working together.

"Contrition and intent...not to repeat the sin."

"Max doesn't have either, and as a priest, I failed him. I was never able to get him to walk the straight and narrow."

"Is there anything else you can tell us?" Brennan asked, wanting to move on from the subject of confession, which she felt certain her father had simply used as a ploy.

"Well, he was angry. Felt his hand had been forced," Max added. Russ avoided his father's eyes uncomfortably, amazed at how easily Max was lying to them.

Brennan asked where they could reach him, and Max told her that he was staying at the St. Augustine Seminary for the next few days before 'heading back to Ohio.'

"Your father loves you," Max said, looking at Brennan with a slightly pained expression.

"Is that part of Dad's message?" she asked, her own features guarded.

"That's a personal observation."

Brennan's eyes gravitated toward Booth's, and although he was doing his best to keep his face neutral as well, she could tell that Booth happened to agree with the priest's 'personal observation.'

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After Russ and 'Father Coulter' had taken their leave, Booth took the opportunity to fill her in on a theory he'd come up with. The tiny dolphin that they'd found on her mother's grave several months ago had led the FBI to an artist in Mead, Colorado. Someone at the FBI had let slip to Delaney that Max Keenan was still alive, and Delaney had decided to get to Max by making threats on the lives of his children.

"And whoever let it slip to Delaney didn't tell you?" Brennan asked.

"They're part of the conspiracy," he replied, getting up to pace.

"You must be annoyed."

"Yeah, you know what? I am. I don't like finding out there's a dirty FBI Agent right under my nose." Booth clenched his jaw at the thought of it and stifled the urge to kick something. "Here's what I think happened… Delaney goes to your father and asks him to hand over the evidence. If Max doesn't do it, he kills you or Russ."

"Dad calls Russ to warn him…and then...kills Delaney?" Her eyes pricked unpleasantly as she spoke, and she crossed the room to stand in front of him.

"Guts him, burns him, leaves a calling card: _Don't mess with Max Keenan's kids_."

"Am I supposed to _like_ that?" she asked softly. Booth hated the vulnerability in her expression, and he took both of her hands gently.

"You know, Bones, I'll take a stand-up crook over a crooked cop any day of the week." Brennan nodded and lost herself in his eyes for a few moments, allowing him to pull her closer. They were both startled when a third voice spoke to them from her doorway.

"You two really shouldn't start making out at work, you know," Caroline sassed. "Booth, I got us a meeting with the judge, let's go. And _you_ ," she said, pointing at Brennan, "had best be ready to get to work in case we're successful."

"You know, I find it best just to do as she says," Booth said with a quiet smirk.

"Okay," Brennan replied sardonically. The two shared a quick goodbye kiss, and Booth left with Caroline, rolling his eyes surreptitiously at her impatient grouching.

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The exhumation order was granted, in spite of the FBI doing their best to stop it, and Booth brought lunch for Brennan while they waited for the remains to reach the lab. It was one of the now-rare occasions that he had to coax her into taking a break to eat a meal, and Brennan finished her food quickly, giving him no opportunity to bring up the phone call he'd received on his way back to the lab. It seemed that Russ had left North Carolina without informing his parole officer, and although Booth had covered for him, he knew the issue needed to be addressed.

At first, he'd planned to tell Brennan, but as he watched her inhale her lunch, he recognized that the stress of the situation was weighing heavily on her. He couldn't bring himself to lay anything else on her shoulders, so he texted Russ, asking him to meet him at the diner for an early dinner before Booth was due at Parker's school. He decided he would keep the issue between the two of them, at least for the time being.

Within hours, the body of former FBI Agent Augustus Harper was delivered to the Jeffersonian. Brennan and Zack assisted Cam with the autopsy, which was conducted, as Cam insisted, 'like the whole world was watching.' They were able to determine rather quickly that the first autopsy had been a sham. Harper had been killed by a long-range sniper rifle, _not_ by a .38 revolver as the FBI had formerly claimed. The new autopsy report was delivered to the judge, and Beckett was set to be released from prison immediately.

Booth met Russ at the diner, hoping that he could get the confrontation over with quickly so that he could pick Brennan up and make it to Parker's school on time.

"Okay, I'm here. What's up?" Russ asked, taking a seat across from Booth.

"You know, you're an idiot Russ. I like you, but...you're a real idiot," Booth said quietly, taking another bite of his pie.

"What'd I do?" Russ held his breath, sure that Booth was going to call him out for the charade he'd helped his father pull earlier that day.

"I got a call from your parole officer today."

"Why?" Russ asked, trying not to sound relieved at the unexpected topic.

"Why? Because you crossed state lines without informing him. I told him you were aiding in an FBI investigation."

"Thanks," Russ said, surprised that Booth would cover for him. Whether Booth was his sister's boyfriend or not, Russ knew that the guy was dedicated to the law and to his job.

"You're slipping...aren't you?"

"Look… I want to marry Amy and raise her kids. One of them is sick; that costs money. I'm a _felon_ on parole. I work part-time as a mechanic. You tell me what job am I gonna get that lets me be the man I need to be to raise a family." Russ was a bit irritated at what he perceived as Booth's self-righteous attitude, and his bitterness at his own circumstances came out in his tone.

Booth gritted his teeth in distaste. If ever there was someone who had needed a positive male influence in his life, it was Russ Brennan. He reminded Booth forcibly of Jared; refusing to take responsibility for the messes he got himself into and feeling angry at the world for things he'd done to himself.

"You got this sick little girl depending on you. I get that. But if you go back inside, and you cross that line… You're not helping anyone out-"

Russ rolled his eyes and got up to leave at the precise moment the large window next to them shattered. A bullet had pierced the glass and grazed the side of Russ's neck, and the other patrons screamed while Booth and Russ took cover.

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Booth and Russ went to the Hoover to give their statements, and although he had called Brennan to tell her to stay put at the lab for the time being, she showed up within minutes of their arrival at his office. Father Coulter had already been waiting for them.

Brennan hugged Russ quickly, getting his assurance that he was really okay, but no sooner had the words left his mouth than Brennan was pulling Booth into a tight embrace. She buried her face against his shoulder, mumbling things only Booth could decipher, and he soothed her quietly. He tried to reign in his frustration that she hadn't listened to him but had instead taken a cab by herself to come to him.

They hugged for so long that Russ cleared his throat uncomfortably to remind them that they weren't alone, but Max couldn't seem to stop grinning at them in approval. He recalled that even as a child, his daughter was rarely so openly affectionate as to initiate a hug in front of other people. Booth was good for her, even if he _was_ FBI.

Booth flipped on the news coverage of Marvin Beckett's release from prison, and when Max attempted to fish for details on the case, Booth dodged the question skillfully. Brennan had taken a seat next to Russ after checking the bandage on his neck.

"It's over, right?" Brennan asked hopefully. "Now that it's out, there's no reason to kill Russ."

"Ah, you know… The men behind this don't care about Marvin Beckett. They care about being exposed," Booth replied.

"Lucky you were together," Brennan said, forcing a smile for Russ's sake before she looked at Booth. "Why _were_ you together?"

"Oh, you know, a man's gotta eat," Booth said casually, meeting Russ's gaze in silent communication. Brennan seemed to be the only person who didn't read the message in Booth's eyes: _I'm only covering for you once, so straighten up._

Booth's attention was claimed by the sudden appearance of an older man, shouting his name from his office doorway. The man gestured for Booth to come with him, and the agent grimaced, adjusting his tie with a feeling of foreboding.

"Who was that?" Russ asked.

"Deputy Director Kirby. My boss's boss's boss."

"I'll wait for you here," Brennan told him, easily deciphering the stress in his features.

Once Booth had disappeared down the corridor, Russ and 'Father Coulter' decided to leave. Russ told her that he'd wait for them back at the house once the priest was dropped off at the seminary. He hugged his sister goodbye and watched as Max settled for a handshake with subtle disappointment.

While Brennan waited for Booth to return, she received several texts from Zack with questions about the analysis. When Booth finally came back, his stony silence unnerved her.

"What happened?" she asked cautiously.

"He suspended me," Booth replied grimly. His thoughts ran in circles, trying to see a solution to the situation and coming up empty. "Let's just talk about it later, okay? If we leave now, we might barely make it for the end of Parker's play. They took the SUV, so I guess we'll both need a cab," he said, looking miserable.

"You go," Brennan encouraged him ruefully. "Zack's been texting every few minutes; he needs help. Tell Parker we'll both make it up to him in a few days when he comes over for Christmas."

"It'll have to be something pretty big," he said bracingly as they headed to the elevator. "We might even have to let him visit Hodgins in his office full of bugs."

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As it turned out, Brennan was more upset over having to miss Parker's play than Parker was. The child seemed to be on an adrenaline high, though Booth knew his girlfriend would probably say there were a few other brain chemicals involved as well. Rebecca reassured Booth that she'd recorded the play and asked if he was alright. Booth shrugged off her concern and worked to school his features better.

By the time Booth made it back to the lab, it was late. The squints were congregated in the lounge, but Booth slipped into Brennan's office to change before joining them, thankful that she'd had the foresight to keep an extra change of clothes on hand. Everyone commiserated with him about his suspension, but Zack had rolled a computer desk into the area and was still squinting away.

"As you can see, Harper's ribs and sternum were practically obliterated by the two shots to his torso," he announced.

"Zack, Booth got fired," Angela said, encouraging him to learn some tact.

"Suspended, not fired," Brennan corrected. Cam was quick to disabuse her of her optimism.

"'Suspended' is FBI speak for fired."

"You know what hurts the most? They took the car. I got no wheels," Booth whined. Brennan winced at his tone and tried to quelch the irrational urge to go buy him a new car.

"The bullets themselves were removed from the body of course, but Hodgins found some very small fragments-"

"Copper, lead, polymer. This is a conspiracy, baby," Hodgins said.

"Guys. What we're dealing with here is that Booth...won't be working with us anymore," Cam reminded them. Brennan pursed her lips in displeasure.

"Well I've got my own gun, it's just… God, why did they have to take the company car?"

"I assumed that the only way Booth can get his car back would be to solve the case on his own and that we'd help," Zack declared. Booth turned away from the railing to face them.

"Oh no. No, no. I can't let you guys do that."

"Anyone who wants to help Booth, raise your hand," Brennan commanded, raising her own and meeting his eyes with a gentle smile. The rest of the team held their own hands up in solidarity, and Booth was touched by their loyalty. _And to think these people used to drive me crazy_ , he mused. A quick look at Zack's intense focus reminded him that perhaps they still _did_ drive him a little crazy on occasion.

"Alright, I reverse-engineered to find the most likely design of the bullets. After the bullet spread, lead pellets were released. Like buckshot."

"Wait a second," Booth spoke up, intrigued. "That's a homemade round invented back in the 70s."

"We're talking a military-issue M40A1 sniper rifle," Hodgins added. Booth grinned at him in approval.

"Nice."

"Dude, what you call being a 'conspiracy theorist,' I call being well-informed."

"Wait," Angela interjected. "So Gus Harper was murdered by a military sniper?"

"Who makes his own rounds," Booth agreed.

Brennan spoke up and suggested that they could compare it to the bullet that had grazed Russ at the diner, but since Booth was no longer able to get access, they would have to see if Caroline could help them.

Caroline agreed to get Booth a list of the task force members and determine which of them had sniper training back in the 70s. Brennan had followed him down from the lounge and was waiting eagerly for him to finish his phone call. She was convinced that the most efficient way to solve the case and get his job back was to convince her father to hand over the rest of the stolen documents from the safety deposit box.

Booth was fairly certain that getting Max to relinquish them would be easier said than done, but he was willing to give it a shot.

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Angela let the partners borrow her car so that they could visit the seminary, and 'Father Coulter' didn't look all that surprised to see them. They hadn't been able to trace the cell phone call with the number Booth had gotten from the priest's phone.

"Father Coulter, if my father makes contact with you again, please tell him he needs to _trust me_. His way got my mother murdered and almost got Russ killed. It's time he tried my way."

"He won't contact me again," he said with certainty.

"How do you know?"

"Ask him," Max said, indicating Booth. "He put me under surveillance." Booth looked uncomfortable but didn't bother denying it. In truth, he'd made the arrangements on a whim after he'd met the priest, hoping that Max might show up to talk to his old friend in person.

"If a parish priest can figure out the FBI is watching him, then so can an experienced fugitive like your father."

Brennan sighed, at a loss for a resolution to the issue. If the past six months had taught them anything, it was that Max Keenan had ways of knowing when his children were in danger. The fact that he was in DC and had killed Delaney proved that. It was frustrating to know what he was that close and yet still unreachable. She couldn't help but feel that his 'calling card,' as Booth had called it, was intended as a message to her and Russ as much as it was meant to warn those who wanted to kill them. Was it supposed to reassure them? Make them feel safer? Clearly it would have been a false sense of security, considering the fact that someone had shot at her brother only a few hours ago.

Booth watched her expressions shift in the dark interior of Angela's car. He was driving them back to the lab, and he could tell that she was working things out in her mind. It wasn't until they returned to her office that he summoned the courage to ask if she was angry with him for the surveillance order. She shook her head in response but alarmed him with her next statement.

"I need a gun."

"No, you don't. You've got me. _I'm your gun_ ," he said firmly. "You want equipment? Here," he tossed her his handcuffs, "Have these, alright? New division of labor: I shoot 'em, you cuff 'em."

"I feel _exposed_ , Booth. I could just carry the one I already have-"

"No." They stared each other down for a moment, and Brennan was the first to break eye contact, feeling suddenly drained. She hadn't forgotten her earlier frustration, however.

"Why didn't you tell me that you had Father Coulter under surveillance?" she asked quietly.

"It's my job to find your father and put him in prison," Booth replied, wearing an expression that betrayed his distaste for the assignment.

"And you don't think I'll help?"

"I'm not questioning your ethics, Bones… He's your father. I really don't think you should have to help."

"He abandoned me, Booth, and that's the _best_ thing you can say about him." She avoided his gaze, feeling vulnerable at actually saying the words out loud. Booth crossed the room to where she sat in her office chair and leaned against her desk beside her.

"Your father lives by a certain code," Booth said gently. "And part of that code is defending his family by whatever means necessary."

"You mean killing people and setting their corpses on fire."

"If that's what it takes."

Brennan looked at his face then and was only slightly surprised by what she saw in his features. She pushed her chair back and stood up to meet his eyes properly.

"You respect him?" She'd heard it in his voice before, but in light of everything going on now, it caught her a little off guard.

"I'm just saying that in his world, he's a very honorable man," Booth replied, shrugging uncomfortably. For the most part, he'd tried to let Brennan form her own opinions of her father, but it was certainly true that Booth felt a kinship with the man. He had killed to protect Brennan on more than one occasion now, and it was a motive for murder that Booth had no problem comprehending.

"That's ridiculous," she argued. "There's only one world: this one."

"Dr. Brennan." The partners looked toward the doorway to see Caroline Julian standing expectantly next to Marvin Beckett. Beckett wanted to assure them that they had done the right thing and had released an innocent man. However, his assurance came with a warning that the men who had framed him were still at large and would come after them without hesitation if that's what they thought it would take to silence them.

Once Beckett had finished his speech, Caroline handed Booth a list of snipers connected to the task force and followed Beckett from the lab.

"Anyone you know?" Brennan asked as Booth scanned the list of names.

"Yeah, the ATF ref on the task force was a Marine sniper, Robert Kirby."

" _FBI Deputy Director_ Robert Kirby? That just suspended you?" Things suddenly snapped into place in Booth's mind, and the picture was disturbing.

"Call your brother, tell him to get out of the house. Tell him to get _out. Now._ "

"Why? What's going on?" she asked, dialing the number quickly.

"Seconds after Caroline got this list, Kirby knew about it."

"He's not answering… I don't understand, Booth." Brennan waited anxiously for the ringing in her ear to end with Russ's voice, but it didn't come.

"It's not us that Kirby is afraid of; it's your father. The only way to strike at him is to go through you or Russ. _Kirby_ was the one who took a shot at Russ."

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They took Angela's car and raced home as quickly as possible, entering through the garage when they arrived. Booth noted absently that the alarm hadn't been tripped, and he told Brennan to stay back, holding his personal firearm at waist level.

"There's no sign of a break-in. I'll check the back," he said, echoing Brennan as she called her brother's name. Brennan moved at a slower pace through the main floor and stopped abruptly at the sight of a large pool of blood on the kitchen floor.

"Oh my god… Booth!" He was back at her side in an instant, and he followed her gaze to the floor. "Russ…"

"Alright, just take it easy. We don't that for sure," he said, attempting to reach her calm, rational side.

"That's too much blood," she said brokenly. "Nobody could survive that much blood loss. Nobody…"

She fell into him, burying her face in his shoulder as his arms came around her and held her tightly to him. He tried to soothe her, but her heart was thundering in her chest, and he wasn't entirely sure she could hear him.

"Oh my god..."

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 **Okay, so the thing about Parker... During the Max's trial (which I _will_ be writing eventually), what allows Brennan to put herself on the line is the implication that Booth took Parker home from school that day and was away from Brennan for long enough for her to commit a murder. However, the last time we see Kirby in this episode it's already nighttime. I could've just left it, but I figured the inconsistency would be more clear in writing than it was in the show, so I had to dream up some other scenario. **

**Review if you can and have a wonderful day!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello again. Thank you for the reviews and feedback; they are very much appreciated! I also want to thank my beta chosenname especially for her help on this chapter. She really helped me straighten out the mess in my head. This one's a bit shorter because it made the most sense to end it there. The next chapter will be longer and won't involve anything we saw on the show.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 21

Booth watched Brennan's hands shake as she collected a sample of the blood and slipped the evidence bag into her pocket. Tears still streamed from her eyes, but her sobs had quieted somewhat. Her voice quivered with emotion when she told him she was ready to go back to the lab, and Booth couldn't resist the need to pull her into his arms again. He kissed her forehead and murmured soft words of reassurance, swaying gently as he held her.

They drove the lamp lit streets at speeds that were inadvisable considering Booth's current civilian status, but neither cared or mentioned the risk. Brennan's mind was full of regrets. She had pushed her brother out of her life for so many years, and she was sickened by the thought of losing him permanently. Especially since she'd just gotten him back…

"It's against the law…us not calling in a murder," she said tearfully. He looked back at her with an intensity in his eyes that comforted her somehow.

"It wasn't a murder. It was a _bloodstain._ "

"That much blood...it's mur...it's murder," she insisted, shaking her head at his denial.

"If we call it in, the next thing is…we find ourselves under arrest."

"That had to be Russ's blood." Her voice was tremulous again, and he could hear the sob she was suppressing. He needed to reel her back.

"You got a sample, alright? We'll check the DNA at the lab. Until then... _hey_ ," she met his gaze, "Who's the one who's always saying 'don't jump to conclusions?'" His gentle reminder slowed her agitated pulse, and she forced herself to breathe deeply.

"Yeah, you're right," Brennan replied, setting her jaw in determination. "Thanks, Booth."

He glanced away from the road briefly at the change in her tone and was relieved to see a glimmer of a smile on her beautiful face. Booth squeezed her hand encouragingly and relaxed a bit more when she returned the pressure.

They gave the sample to Cam as soon as they got to the lab, and Booth talked her into lying on the couch for a little while. It was almost morning, and neither of them had slept. Brennan complied reluctantly, thinking that sleep would at least make the hours pass more quickly. Booth lay with her for a while, but he felt too keyed up to actually sleep. His nervous energy compelled him to move, and he carefully slid out from beneath Brennan to find somewhere to pace.

Brennan woke a short while later when Cam came to tell her that the blood hadn't belonged to Russ. Rather than wait for a full DNA panel, she had opted to check the blood type, which was a much faster test. Before Cam left the room, Brennan's cell phone rang, and the conversation was brief.

"Father Coulter might have information, I'll be back later," Brennan told her. She was out the door before Cam could say another word.

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Cam found Booth near the autopsy room, evidently looking for her, and she shook her head at the anxiety that seemed to be emanating from every inch of him.

"The blood's not Russ's," she told him quickly.

"See, even you can't do a DNA test that fast."

"Didn't have to. Both Brennan and her brother are O type blood, as was their mother. The blood sample you brought me was AB, therefore-"

"Okay, let's go tell Bones."

"I just did; she's on her way to see the priest."

"Why?" Booth asked sharply, eyes widening in alarm.

"He said he had something for her."

"No, she can't be going places without me. Not when it's open season on Brennans."

His phone rang in his pocket as he made his way quickly to the sliding glass doors, and he answered it without checking the name.

"Bones?"

"Not even close, Cherie. We need to talk. I'm at the diner, get your cute butt over here."

Booth started to argue, but he knew that Caroline wouldn't ask to speak to him in person if it weren't important. He called Brennan repeatedly to no avail as he ran to the diner, thankful that at least Caroline had wanted to meet him nearby. When he burst through the door, his breath was labored, and he was still dialing and redialing Brennan's number.

"Alright, go," Booth instructed Caroline.

"I was clearing out my desk when my phone rings, and it's this FBI Agent named Carlson-"

"He heads up the surveillance unit," Booth interrupted impatiently.

"And he tells me - 'You and Booth are wasting my time with this damn priest,' and I tell him 'You better mind your mushy mouth-'"

" _Caroline_ , I gotta find Bones and keep her from getting killed-"

" _Father Coulter_ is ninety years old and confined to a bed with Alzheimer's which does _not_ much sound like the priest you told me about."

"Dammit!" Booth's pulse skyrocketed as the implication hit him full force, and he begged Caroline for her keys. There was no way in hell he was waiting for a cab, but he was still surprised when she tossed them to him without argument. He was gone before she could blink.

Booth continued to call Brennan's cell as he squeezed himself into Caroline's tiny, beat up car, cursing fluently each time the call went to voicemail. He felt sick, praying that he wasn't already too late. _Why did she leave without me? Is this guy another enemy or…?_ He groaned out loud, realizing why the priest's voice had sounded so familiar.

Booth had spoken to him on the phone six months ago.

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The sun had crested over the horizon in the time it took for Brennan to reach the seminary, and 'Father Coulter' was waiting for her in the courtyard. She found his smile oddly reassuring in spite of the situation.

"Well, first I want to tell you that your brother is...with his father," he said gently. Brennan's eyes narrowed as she tried to decipher the true meaning of his words.

"You mean...with God?"

"No, his _earthly_ father. _Your_ father."

"Are you certain?" she asked, her eyes shining.

"Saw it with my own eyes."

"Oh…" Her relief was palpable. "Thank God… Which I use only as a figure of speech."

"Well, I mean… You have to start somewhere." Max smiled at her as they began to walk along the stone sidewalks of the seminary. "You know, you're… you're very much like him."

"I'm... _nothing_ like my father," she insisted. Brennan had been afraid of that very idea since the moment she'd pulled the trigger on Gil Lappin. She didn't want to be like him.

"Black and white, the two of you. You always saw the world in black and white. Your mother wasn't like that. Neither is Russell."

Something about the way he said her brother's full name sparked a hint of recognition in her mind, but she couldn't place it. Brennan looked at him curiously, but he turned his face away from her as he continued to walk. She followed him hesitantly.

"Your father, he talked about uh...when you were four and your brother was nine, and he hid behind this door and jumped out at you… _Boo!_ " Brennan laughed with him, not remembering the incident but able to appreciate the story all the same. Max took her hand, and the contact surprised her. "And you, you had this doll that had this string in the back for talking…"

"Chatty Cathy," she supplied, still smiling and thinking that the familiarity she felt with the priest must have been because of his presence in her early childhood. He nodded as they approached a shaded area with a bench.

"Wham! You took that doll, and you wound up and hit your brother so hard you knocked him flat as a pancake." He chuckled fondly at the memory, and his next words sent a wave of shock through Brennan's body. "I said to your mother, 'No one will ever jump out at that girl again.' And your mother said 'Just like you, Max. She's just like you.'"

Max sat on the bench and looked at his daughter cautiously, watching her emotions play across her features and bracing himself for her reaction.

Brennan pursed her lips to contain her emotion, suddenly feeling angry with herself for being so blind. This priest was her father. _How did I miss this? This is what I_ do _._ She felt betrayed all over again, as if it weren't enough that he had left her at age fifteen, not enough that he had killed her abductor without sticking around to even say hello… Brennan's chest ached so painfully that she had to stifle the urge to press her hand to her sternum.

"Hair color...plastic surgery...colored contact lenses...chin and cheek implants...fifteen years older?" Max nodded sadly. "Still...I should have seen it." Brennan sat on the bench next to him, avoiding his gaze for a moment.

"Russ knew all along?" she deduced quickly.

"Yeah." _More betrayal_.

"You talk to Russ, but not to me?" Brennan asked, unable to suppress her tears any longer.

"You know, to tell you the truth, you do… You do better without me, and Russ does worse. At least when you're not being stalked and kidnapped by ex-boyfriends or buried alive," he added grimly.

Brennan fought to contain a sob. _He was right there, and he left again. Left to save his own skin_. She hated his capacity to hurt her and felt frustrated with herself for allowing that vulnerability over and over. _Pathetic_.

"Take this," Max said gently, handing her a bible.

"I'm not religious," she insisted, raising both hands in the air to refuse him.

"No," he smiled sadly. "We're gonna play this your way. Please." Brennan accepted the book and flipped through it numbly, quickly coming to a few loose, folded pages that had been tucked into the Book of Numbers.

"This is Gus Harper's journal," she said, thumbing through the pages and finding an oddly shaped silver key.

"There's a key there that's to a safety deposit box. In that safety deposit box is all the evidence."

"Why didn't you give it back to them? Back in 1978."

"Because your mother took one look at it and said, 'If you turn this over to them, they will _kill_ us. _And our kids._ '" Brennan nodded morosely.

"They got mom anyway."

"There's not a day that goes by that my heart is not broken." Max looked into his daughter's eyes and held her gaze intensely. He hated the hurt and betrayal that shone back at him, and he knew there was a good chance she might never forgive him. He'd always known.

Max glanced over her shoulder as Russ pulled to a stop in a noisy green pickup truck, shouting through the open window for his father to come with him.

"I gotta go," Max whispered ruefully. Brennan looked back at him almost coldly, as if she'd been expecting it, and Max's heart clenched with regret.

"Wait," she said, standing when he did to pull him into a hug. "I can't let you go."

"Oh...I love you too," Max said, his voice thick with emotion and hope.

"No… _I mean I can't let you go._ " Her words were more insistent this time, and she surprised her father with a kick to the leg, sending him nearly to his knees on the pavement. "I'm sorry."

"I must be getting old. I let you get the drop on me," he groaned, waving Russ off when it looked like he was considering coming to help.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Brennan said, pulling Booth's handcuffs from her pocket. "I just...can't let you get away." But the moment she reached for his wrist, he took hold of hers and snapped one cuff to her wrist and the other to the iron bench. Brennan gasped in surprise, but she met his eyes when he spoke again.

"I'm sorry. Listen to me. You've got somebody that you can trust. You hang on to him. _I'm proud of you_. I love you," he said, pressing a fervent kiss to her forehead.

Brennan watched him take long strides toward the green truck but was distracted by the arrival of another unfamiliar vehicle. Booth leapt from the driver's seat, and saw Max smiling widely at him. They stared at each other for a moment before the con man spoke, pointing at him sternly.

"You take care of her."

Booth pulled his gun and aimed it at Max, warning him to stop. But Max didn't listen, and Booth had no intention of chasing him. He ran to Brennan's side, and they watched father and son climb quickly into the truck. Russ pulled away, but not before backing intentionally into Caroline's car.

Brennan collapsed onto the bench, not bothering to withhold her tears any longer. Booth unlocked the cuffs quickly and pulled her into his arms, making soothing noises and rubbing circular patterns over her back.

"It's gonna be okay, Bones. I've got you, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

Brennan sobbed again but in relief this time, and she was amazed that he knew exactly what she needed to hear. He held her for a long time, ignoring the curious glances of the priests who passed them, and Brennan couldn't help but recall one of first times he'd made her feel this way.

" _I love you, Bones. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."_

" _I only need you to stay."_

" _I promise."_

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Before she and Booth went home, Brennan had called a tow truck for Caroline's car and had promised to pay for repairs or a new vehicle. Booth watched her sadly as she moved numbly through the house, joining her in the shower and falling into bed next to her. They didn't speak, and that worried Booth a little, but he knew that she was processing. He instead tried to focus on the fact that she didn't pull away from him physically. She seemed to crave the comfort of his touch as much as she ever did, and that was reassuring. He resolved to let her have her time to think and be ready when she wanted to talk.

Having stayed up all night, they slept off and on through most of the day, and Brennan continued her trend of silence. During the wakeful periods, they laid next to one another, communicating silently through intense eye contact and gentle caresses. Booth could read the conflict in her eyes: hurt, shock, confusion, betrayal, loss. He sent his own feelings right back at her: love, compassion, devotion, empathy.

The following morning, Booth received a phone call informing him that he'd been reinstated. The Attorney General had insisted upon it when he'd read Gus Harper's journal. However, the news was immediately followed with the details of a new crime scene on the hotel rooftop.

"They want me down there, Bones," he told her uncomfortably. "Do you-"

"No," she said quickly. "We both know who did it. I need to recuse myself from the investigation." Booth nodded and was relieved to find no trace of anger in her expression. She was troubled by the situation, but she seemed to understand his predicament. "I know that I can be objective, but if anything goes to court, I would have to testify against my father or else call my own credibility into question."

"Okay," he agreed, placing a soft kiss at her temple.

"I think I'll go to the lab, actually. Zack is now officially Dr. Addy, and I need to talk to Cam about his job. I can give you a ride to the scene though… You should get the SUV back today, right?"

"Yeah… Look, Bones, I might be able to get someone else on it-"

"No, Booth. This is your job, and this is what I want you to do. It's who you are, and you will _not_ compromise that for someone like Max."

The tension was back in her voice, and he nodded quickly in acceptance of her statement. It was unlikely that he would've been able to get out of it anyway, but he'd been willing to try for her sake. He didn't want it to end up coming between them; no job was more important than their relationship.

They dressed and left the house, taking Angela's car so that they could return it to her, and Booth promised to pick her up as soon as he was done at the scene. The rest of the squints looked about as drained as she was, but her first order of business was to place Zack's diploma on Cam's desk.

"What's this?" she asked curiously.

"Zack's doctorate," Hodgins replied, standing next to Brennan.

"I'd like to recommend him for a job."

"I can't put him in front of a jury," Cam argued. "I'm sorry. I'll put in a good word in Pure Research, that way he can come visit once in a while."

"Visit?" Hodgins echoed incredulously. Angela called their names from behind them, and when they turned, she stepped to the side to reveal Zack. A very _different_ looking Zack…

"I'd like to present your _colleague_ ," Angela said in a formal tone. "Dr. Zackary Uriah Addy."

Zack had shed his wavy hair in favor of a short, cleaner cut and donned a suit and tie. Brennan and Hodgins smiled and crossed the room for a closer look.

"Look at _you_ … all grown up," Hodgins enthused.

"Wow," Brennan added proudly. Cam agreed that the change was very impressive.

"I can learn how to be effective in front of a jury," Zack insisted.

"Zack can learn anything," Brennan agreed with confidence. Cam looked at the array of hopeful faces in front of her and felt no choice but to relent.

"Alright… he's hired. Who am I to break up this team?"

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When Booth called to let Brennan know he was done at the scene, she asked him to meet the group at the diner. She and the rest of the squints arrived first, and she spotted him through the window when he got there. Booth waved to her, motioning for her to come outside, and she did so without hesitation.

"Hey, sorry, I just… I don't want to bring down the mood in there," he told her, hugging her gently.

"Oh," she said softly, understanding his tone. "So the crime scene… Was it Kirby?"

"I'm pretty sure." He held up another Columbus coin, and she frowned at it. "It was Kirby's blood in our house."

"Dad's still trying to warn people to leave me and Russ alone."

"No, Russ...he's safe with your father. He's warning people to stay away from _you_ ," he corrected her. Brennan pursed her lips and nodded as he continued. "I'm sorry. Sorry that you had to go through it again. Watching your family drive off and leave you behind… _I'm sorry._ "

"My father is…"

"He's your dad. He loves you." Their eyes met and held for several moments. Booth could see that she didn't agree with his words but that she very much wanted to believe them. He held her hand and watched her expression soften.

"You know… you're wrong. I only watched _part_ of my family drive away again. You're the one who taught me that there's more than one kind of family. And I know you'll never leave me." Brennan's voice was confident as she repeated the words he'd said to her almost a year ago. He smiled, remembering the conversation as well.

"It's good to know you listen to me once in a while," he teased her. Brennan smiled and looked at her feet, but his hand tilted her chin back upward, capturing first her eyes and then her lips. Their arms wrapped around one another tightly, as if they were determined to meld their bodies together.

For several blissful minutes, they were completely unaware of their surroundings. Pedestrians stared, cars sped by, Angela smirked at them through the window, but they were too consumed in one another to notice any of it. It wasn't until Zack tapped on the large window that they came back to earth and saw him waving happily at them. They smiled back and nodded to indicate that they were coming inside.

"Do me a favor and pat Zack on the shoulder with an open hand," Brennan said with an eager smile.

"What? Why, does that mean something?"

Brennan merely laughed in response, and Booth felt a warm rush of relief at the sound, taking her hand to follow her into the diner.

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It wasn't until December 23rd that she finally broke. Cam had closed the lab early for the holidays, and although Brennan had entertained the idea of locking herself up in Limbo for a while, she had decided to go home rather than argue about it. Hank was due to arrive the following day, and Parker would be there on Christmas Day. The house was ready for guests for the most part, but when Booth came home, he found his girlfriend angrily scrubbing the kitchen floor.

He had helped her clean up the pool of blood using the chemicals she'd instructed him to buy, but Brennan had insisted that she could still see the stain from certain angles. She'd gone over the area with her blacklight dozens of times, cleaning again and re-checking over and over. It never seemed to be clean enough to suit her. Booth noticed that she had evidently run out of cleaner and had to purchase more on her way home that day.

"Bones?" he said cautiously.

"What?"

"Baby, the floor's clean. You can stop."

"I can still see it," she snapped, scrubbing harder. Her hair was pulled back into a loose knot at the nape of her neck, and several tendrils had escaped, waving slightly when she moved. Booth watched her for a moment, knowing there was more to her anger than a persistent stain, and he decided that he'd let her stew in her emotions for long enough.

"Bones, put the scrub brush down," he said gently. "Let's talk."

She kept scrubbing, moving almost robotically as she assaulted the tiles. She was breathing heavily in an effort to contain her anger.

"Amy called," she said tersely.

"Okay…?"

"They're not coming. Hayley's sick again. Not that I really expected them to come without Russ, but…" Brennan shook her head, pursing her lips tightly. Booth waited, knowing she had more to say. "He left his family, Booth. _At Christmas_ ," she spat.

Booth cursed inwardly and stepped closer to her, kneeling to place his hands on top of hers. He forced her to stop scrubbing and pried the brush gently from her hands. In the next instant, she was on her feet, the anger pulsing through her so strongly that he could see her trembling. She crossed the room to stand in front of the sink, gripping the edge of the counter and avoiding his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bones," Booth said softly, coming slowly closer to her. He very much wanted to fold her into his arms, but he sensed that she needed space in that moment.

"How could he do that? He knows _exactly_ what it feels like, so how could he do it to his own family? He said he wanted to marry Amy, to raise her kids as his own. He told me that just _days_ ago, and now he's just gone. Amy hasn't heard anything from him."

Booth sighed and clenched his jaw unhappily. He completely understood her anger with Russ, and he shared it. Booth was furious with Max as well, but Brennan's focus seemed to be on her brother at the moment.

"I don't know, Bones. I hope he'll do what he can to make things right. Or at least as right as they can be."

"I just don't understand, Booth. No matter what might be going on, I can't imagine leaving my children behind like that…"

Booth looked down at the floor and smiled slightly, thrilling a little at the devotion she showed to his son and to a child who didn't even exist yet.

"Neither can I," he agreed. He watched her breathing slow gradually until he felt it was safe to place a comforting hand on her back. She stiffened for only an instant before turning and wrapping her arms around his waist. Brennan buried her face against his shoulder, allowing his familiar scent to calm her.

Her emotions were a mess, and she knew that the anger would be only the first to make an appearance. She was angry with her brother, angry with her father, and angry with herself for being foolish enough to trust Russ again. Brennan hadn't trusted her father in many years, and if she were looking at things logically, she'd have to admit that his actions did fit his previous behavior pattern. Logic was difficult to come by at the moment, however, and that frustrated her as well. She felt that the situation seemed to have contorted her into something she wasn't. Where was her cool, rational logic when she needed it? Why hadn't she recognized her father for who he truly was? She felt as though she were drowning in betrayal, anger, and shock.

Booth continued to hold her as he felt the tension leave her body in tiny increments. He would hold her all night if that was what she needed. He hated to see her hurting, particularly when there was nothing he could do about it. His first instinct had been to track down Max and Russ and haul their asses back to explain themselves to her, but Booth was now quite certain that no one would be able to find Max Keenan unless he wanted to be found. He struggled to balance his own feelings in much the same way Brennan was struggling. Booth had formed a grudging respect for the man, not to mention an immense gratitude for his help when Brennan was taken the previous summer. But Booth was a federal agent, and Max Keenan was a murderer. Even though the man's honor code was something Booth understood on a personal level, he didn't know how to reconcile his respect for the man with the fact that Max had hurt the woman he loved. _Again_.

Eventually Booth coaxed her over to the couch and was pleased when she curled up on his lap without argument. He tucked her head beneath his chin and ran his fingers slowly through her hair, searching for the words she needed to hear.

"You know, Bones… You have every right to be angry. I'm pissed off too. At both of them, at myself-"

"Why are you angry at yourself?" she asked in alarm, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes.

"Because I didn't figure out who he was until it was too late. His voice was familiar; I just couldn't place it. Plus I should have checked with Carlson sooner, rather than gotten it secondhand from Caroline…"

"Booth, there was nothing you could've done that would've produced a different outcome. So much happened in one day; there simply weren't enough hours for you to do anything more than you did. And if you think _you're_ frustrated that you didn't recognize his voice, imagine how it feels to not even recognize your _own father_. I'm a forensic anthropologist. This is what I _do_. I should've been able to recognize his voice too, but I should've seen through his physical alterations first and foremost. I knew something about him was familiar, but I passed it off on the assumption that I must have been around him as a child."

"And that's exactly what he wanted you to do, Bones. The guy was dressed as a priest. I don't think anyone would've expected a career criminal to be going around disguised that way. And you certainly had enough to worry about without trying to figure out whether or not a stranger might have had plastic surgery."

"Still," she insisted stubbornly. "I should have seen it." They were the words she'd said to Max when she'd realized who he was, and unintentionally repeating them sent her mind back to the anguish of that conversation. Brennan laid her head against Booth's shoulder again and sighed, feeling sick to her stomach.

"Don't be mad at yourself, Bones. Be mad at Max; be mad at Russ… But none of this was your fault, okay? You did what anyone would've done."

She was silent for a while then, trying her best to believe as he believed. Rationally she knew that there was nothing she had personally done to contribute to the deaths of either Delaney or Kirby, but that didn't mean she didn't still hold herself accountable, at least in part. _If we hadn't kept looking for Max, would those men have died?_ she wondered. True, the world was most likely better off without them, but it was neither her place nor her father's to make that call.

"Do you really think he killed those men for…?" She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"For you? And Russ?" he asked. She nodded, but he took his time in answering. "Yes," he said eventually. "He acted as a father trying to protect his children. As angry as I am with him for hurting you, I… I understand his reasoning."

"I don't know how to feel about it," she admitted softly.

"And that's okay," he assured her. "There's no wrong way to feel. It's okay to be confused, or angry, or relieved, or...all of those things at once. But please don't blame yourself, Bones."

"I love you," she whispered into his neck. His arms tightened around her immediately.

"I love you too, baby."

They were silent for a few moments before Booth talked her into taking a long hot shower. While she was upstairs, he finished cleaning the floor and stowed the cleaning supplies under the sink, wondering if she would eventually insist on replacing the floor altogether.

Booth joined her upstairs as she was washing her hair, and they stood together under the steaming spray until the hot water began to run out. They dried their bodies but crawled into bed without getting dressed, each of them craving skin contact and physical connection. Booth would have been content to merely hold her for the rest of the night, but she had other ideas.

Her need for comfort was palpable, and as soon as the ache in her chest began to dissipate, a new ache grew at her center. Brennan kissed him deeply, pulling his body over hers and worshiping him with her hands. He made love to her slowly, allowing her to take the lead when she wanted and declaring his love with every tender touch to her flawless skin. They cried out together in a simultaneous release, clinging to one another until their hearts settled into a quieter pace.

Booth held her all night just as he'd intended, guarding her from her nightmares and soothing her fears until she slept peacefully, content in the security of his love.

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 **Ah, the feels. They're all over the place. Next chapter we'll have Christmas with Pops and Parker and take a little trip. :)**

 **Reviews make me happy!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hello again! Hope everyone is having a great weekend. As promised, this one is a bit longer and is completely AU. I enjoyed writing it for many reasons, so I hope you like it too!**

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Chapter 22

The next morning, Booth found his girlfriend changing the sheets in the guest room, and he watched her from the doorway for a few moments before she realized he was there. His sharp eyes traced every curve of her body and memorized her graceful movements. Every now and then, Booth would see her doing some mundane domestic task and it would hit him all over again that she was really, truly _his_. His thoughts must have been fairly transparent on his face, because as soon as she caught sight of him, her mouth curved into soft smile.

"What?" she asked with a challenging tone. Booth wasn't quite sure how to best to articulate himself.

"Just…"

"Enjoying the view?"

"No… Well, yes, but not only that," he admitted, stepping into the room to help her finish her task. "There are just...moments sometimes that catch me by surprise. I never forget how lucky I am to have you, but sometimes it still amazes me."

Brennan wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed as he pressed her tightly to his chest. They swayed on the spot for a few moments, content to merely be in one another's arms. When Brennan pulled back to look at him, the love and compassion she saw reflected in his eyes was enough to make her breath catch in her throat, and she felt herself sinking into precisely the kind of moment he'd been talking about. Her father and brother's betrayal was still weighing heavily on her heart, but she couldn't deny that Booth made the burden considerably more manageable.

"Although the concept of luck is highly illogical… I think I'd have to argue that _I'm_ the lucky one, Booth," she teased.

"Not a chance."

He kissed her swiftly to prevent her from arguing the point, and by the time he released her, she'd forgotten the point. They made their way downstairs, and Brennan watched him shrug into his coat.

"Do you need me to stop for anything while I'm out?" he asked, checking his pockets for his keys and wallet.

"No, I think we have what we need. I wouldn't ask you to shop on Christmas Eve anyway, Booth. And if I did, I'd make you leave your gun at home," she smirked, eyeing his side arm. "You're picking up Hank and coming straight home, right? Do you really need it?"

"You never know," he shrugged and kissed her goodbye. "You sure you don't want to come along?"

"No, I have a few things to finish up, and I want to get a head start on dinner."

"Okay. Love you," he smiled.

"I love you too."

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Booth cursed under his breath at the persistent ache in his feet. He managed to cope with it most days with the help of a set of custom-made orthotics and, more recently, his birthday gift. Winter was always a painful time, however, and as he watched his grandfather amble toward him with a wince, Booth knew that he wasn't the only one hating the cold. Hank greeted him with a cheerful hug, looking as happy to see his grandson as he ever was.

"Where's Temperance?" he asked, looking a little disappointed. Booth grinned indulgently and rolled his eyes. Hank was very attached to Brennan. She was usually the first person he asked about when they spoke on the phone, and he had told Booth more than once that if he were a few decades younger, Booth would have some serious competition.

"She's waiting at home, Pops. I offered, but she said she had some things to finish up before you got there." Booth took Hank's suitcase and stowed it in the back of the SUV next to Brennan's backup field kit before helping his grandfather into the passenger seat.

"Ah," Hank replied with a nod. "And Parker's coming tomorrow?"

"Yup, and we get to keep him for a _week_ ," Booth said with a smile.

"Well, I'm glad Rebecca finally pulled her head outta her ass, Shrimp. Though I would've given just about anything to be a fly on the wall when that woman of yours cornered her in her own office."

"You and me both, Pops." They shared a laugh, each picturing the scene in their minds.

"And she's doing alright after that Gravedigger mess?"

"Yeah…" Booth said a little awkwardly. Brennan still had the occasional nightmare, but all things considered, she was doing better. Or at least she had been until… "She's coping with that pretty well, Pops, but some other things came up this week," he said grimly. Hank frowned at his tone.

"What now?" The two words pretty well summed up how Booth was feeling about the situation. Or perhaps ' _What next?'_ might be more appropriate.

"Well…first of all, her brother and his family won't be here for Christmas…"

Booth did his best to tell the story in a way that would allow Hank to understand what Brennan was going through without compromising her privacy.

"So you're telling me they left to protect her? Again? And at _Christmas again_?" Hank asked with a scowl.

"Yeah, the timing definitely makes it worse."

"And her father killed someone again? You're sure."

"We don't have all of the evidence together yet, but…I'm sure. So is she."

"But you respect the guy." It was a statement rather than a question, though Booth hadn't said the words aloud.

"He's got a code, you know? Max did what he felt he had to do to keep his kids safe. I can identify with that."

So could Hank. He was silent for a moment, considering Booth's perspective, and he found that he agreed with his grandson's judgment. There was nothing he wouldn't have done for his grandsons, even when the person they'd needed protection against was his own son.

"So how is she handling all of it?" Hank asked. The question was met with a sigh as Booth considered his answer.

"She's...hurting. She feels betrayed all over again, and she's angry with herself as much as with the two of them."

"With _herself_?" Hank asked incredulously.

"Yeah, she's frustrated that she didn't recognize him. It's her job to see through things like that, you know? She's pissed at both of them for lying and leaving again, but I think she might just be angrier with herself. She holds herself to a higher standard than anyone else, and she hates that she let herself start to trust her brother again."

Hank didn't need to ask if Booth had corrected Brennan's misdirected anger, but the expression on his grandson's face made it clear that Booth didn't think he'd gotten through. Hank scowled again and resolved to have a talk with Brennan if the opportunity arose. He knew a little something about guilt.

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Brennan was nearly finished making dinner when they arrived, and Booth took over the cooking so that she could visit with Hank. They sat at the bar and watched him cook, and Booth was pleased to see that her smiles for Hank were genuine. Dinner was a pleasant affair of laughter and good food, and the three of them sat at the table talking for nearly an hour after they'd finished their meal.

Booth and Hank decided to attend the midnight Mass so that Christmas Day would be free for Parker. Brennan stayed behind to get the house ready for the next day, and neither she nor Booth noticed when Hank moved a small object from his suitcase to his pocket before they left.

"Listen, Shrimp, there's something I want to give you," Hank said as they walked back to the SUV after the service. "I know you're gonna try to argue with me, but I want you to take it, alright?"

"What, Pops?" Booth asked in confusion.

Hank plunged a hand into his coat pocket and removed a small, square box, handing it to his grandson. Booth's eyes narrowed a little further as he took it, but his expression shifted immediately when he opened the box. It was his grandmother's engagement ring.

"Uh… Look, Pops-"

"I said no arguing, kid. The two of you belong together; anybody could see it."

"Yeah, but Bones, she… She doesn't want to get married. She doesn't believe in marriage."

"I don't think so," Hank disagreed with an eye-crinkling smile. "I think you might be surprised, Shrimp. But even if you're right, she could still wear it." Booth looked like he wanted to argue again, but Hank continued, "Your grandmother would've loved her. She would've wanted Temperance to have it, whether you ever make things official or not."

Booth sighed, still eyeing the ring. It was beautiful, and its now-vintage style would suit Brennan perfectly. But no matter what words he might come up with to reassure her that it wasn't an engagement ring, there was little chance that she would believe him. He'd been able to convince her that he was happy with their commitment even without the formality of a wedding, and it was the truth. So long as he had her, he honestly didn't care what official title she held in his life. That wasn't to say that he wouldn't be ecstatic to call her his wife, but it wasn't as important to him as she was.

"I don't know, Pops…"

"Just take it," Hank insisted. "You'll know when the time's right." He continued to walk toward the SUV, leaving Booth a few steps behind as he looked at the ring for another moment before pocketing it. He didn't want to argue with his grandfather, but he knew there was no way he could give Brennan the ring any time soon. Maybe not ever.

By the time he and Hank returned to the house, Brennan was in bed. Booth made sure his grandfather was settled in the guest room and opened their bedroom door quietly, smiling at the sight that met his eyes. The lamp was still on, and Brennan had fallen asleep while reading. Booth quickly stashed the ring box in the back of his sock drawer, knowing that she almost never had a reason to open it. Brennan was propped up slightly with an extra pillow, and Booth gently lifted the book from her chest, marking her page before setting it aside. Brennan stirred slightly when the weight was lifted and the lamp switched off, but she didn't wake until Booth slipped between the sheets next to her.

"Booth?" she murmured lethargically.

"Shh, it's okay. It's just me," he assured her, opening his arms in invitation.

Brennan rearranged her pillows and scooted herself into place against him. She had no idea how she'd ever managed to sleep alone.

"Everything go okay?" she asked, the words distorted by a yawn.

"Yeah, it was nice. You alright?"

"Mmhmm… Did you set the alarm?"

"Of course."

"Did you call yesterday to schedule an appointment with the security company? I meant to ask last night…"

"Yeah, they can come on the 26th."

When Brennan's overloaded brain had gotten around to realizing that her father had managed to bypass their security system as well as turn their home into a crime scene, she had called Booth from the lab to make sure the situation would be rectified. They hadn't discussed it again the previous night when her anger had finally boiled over, but Booth hadn't forgotten. He wasn't particularly pleased about it either, but neither of them were sure exactly how things had happened. It could have just as easily been Kirby who disabled the system. Booth was fairly certain that Max wouldn't have brought the danger into their home by choice. It seemed more likely that he would have simply followed Kirby, who had apparently known that Russ had been staying with them. Whatever the truth of the situation might be, however, the fact remained that their security system had been compromised, and Booth intended to make very sure that never happened again.

Brennan nodded against his chest and kept her eyes closed as she tilted her face towards his for a kiss, dozing off again almost immediately after the connection was broken. Booth stroked her soft hair, watching her sleep for a few moments before closing his own eyes and whispering into the darkness.

"Merry Christmas, Bones."

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Brennan's first experience with parenthood on Christmas morning was slightly easier than it might have been if Parker had woken at their house. Rebecca told them wearily that he'd been up since before five, and he'd been a ball of energy ever since. She waved politely to Hank and Brennan before leaving, and Parker bounded into the living room to greet his family.

"Santa came here too!" Parker cheered, dropping to his knees in front of the Christmas tree for a better look.

"Of course he did, Parks. How about you get us started? Do you want to pass out presents this year?"

Parker nodded excitedly and got to work, checking each name tag and collecting the majority of the gifts into his own pile. They took turns opening gifts at first, though Parker was still opening gifts long before anyone had finished. He was thoroughly excited about everything he received, even the decorative Philadelphia Flyers socks that were "just like Daddy's!"

"Are you serious?!" Booth's face lit up when he opened Brennan's gift, and he looked at her in wide-eyed disbelief.

"Of course," she laughed. "I know it won't be possible to go to every game, but it's only a two hour drive. I think a few games would be feasible."

"Holy crap, Bones!"

"Daddy!"

"Sorry, buddy," he said, still grinning. She had gotten him three season tickets for the Flyers, and he felt as giddy as Parker had been when he'd realized Santa had come. "Oh, Bones… _I_ am gonna teach _you_ about hockey! There's no escaping it now," he teased her.

"I expected nothing less," she grinned. "There's something else too, though it's not really a Christmas gift…" She rose and crossed the room to the bookshelf, removing a small, flat box that she had apparently hidden in plain sight. Brennan returned to the sofa and handed it to him with a smirk.

His smile stretched even wider when he opened the box. It was a review copy of her next novel, which wasn't scheduled for release until March.

"Thanks, Bones." His eyes were warm and affectionate, and Brennan smiled back, kissing him softly.

"You're welcome."

"Your turn!" he said excitedly, rising from the couch to lift a large flat object from behind the tree. Brennan's forehead wrinkled in surprise that she hadn't spotted the package sooner. He placed it in front of her, and Brennan was intrigued by the obvious weight of the object. "Now, the rest of your gift is an experience rather than something material, and it'll have to wait a few weeks."

Brennan stifled the urge to pester him with questions and removed the wrapping paper, gasping as she slowly revealed a painting. She recognized Angela's style, which made the gift that much better. Her friend had drawn inspiration from a photograph that had been taken of the partners during the Jeffersonian gala the previous year. The image was truly stunning, particularly considering the fact that they hadn't been in a relationship at that point. Brennan had one arm curled over Booth's shoulder while he held her other hand against his chest. His other hand was, as always, pressed to the small of her back. They were smiling at each other in mutual appreciation of some forgotten joke, and the connection between them would have been obvious to anyone.

"When…?"

"When did she find time to paint it?" he guessed with a chuckle. Brennan nodded, still smiling brightly at the painting. "I have no idea really. I asked her if she would be willing to paint something for you a few months ago, and she jumped on it right away. Said she knew exactly what to paint. I tried to pay her, but you know Angela."

She nodded again and looked at him, her blue eyes shimmering. Seeing her that way never failed to make Booth's throat constrict with emotion, even when he knew that the tears in her eyes were brought on by happiness.

"Thank you, Booth."

"You're very welcome. Merry Christmas," he said, kissing her gently.

"Merry Christmas!" everyone echoed. Hank had opened his gifts before Booth, and as he watched his grandson exchange gifts with Brennan, he was even more certain of her place in their family. He had heard her speak dismissively of marriage as a cultural custom, but it had sounded like she'd spoken the words many times before. Hank was fairly certain that it was an opinion she'd formed long before meeting Booth, and the more time he spent watching her with his grandson and great-grandson, the more sure he was that her ideals would change at some point if they hadn't already. His grandson was just too afraid to bring it up.

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They were finishing up lunch when Parker realized that their number was a few shorter than he'd been expecting, and Booth mentally kicked himself for not addressing it privately with his son earlier.

"Bones, when is your family going to get here?" Parker asked, impatient for other children to play with.

"Uh… Actually they couldn't make it this year, Parker. Hayley's sick, and they had to stay home."

"Oh," he said sadly. "Being sick on Christmas would be awful!"

"I agree," she said with a tight smile.

"Can we make her a get well soon card?"

"I'm sure she'd like that," she replied, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"And you can send it to her?"

"Sure, why don't you go get your art supplies," she encouraged him. Parker thundered up the stairs to his room, and Brennan smiled sadly at Booth. He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling the hair at the base of her neck.

"You okay?"

Brennan nodded but couldn't bring herself to answer. She was far from okay, but she was holding it together. Being surrounded by Booth men did help, and she was determined to focus on the positives. She had spent the majority of last Christmas in the lab, and although it had been more of a home to her than anywhere else back then, things had certainly changed. Booth was her home now, and she knew _that_ would _never_ change.

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After Parker had finished his card for Hayley, Booth took him out to the backyard to play. There wasn't enough snow on the ground for a snowman, but they took turns pelting each other with messy snowballs and tackling each other.

"How are you holding up, Sweetheart?"

Brennan raised her brows at his question as she set two cups of coffee on the table and took the seat next to him. The concern in his features left her with no doubt as to why he was asking.

"Booth told you?"

"Not all of it, but…enough, I suppose."

"I'm fine," she assured him. Hank snorted in disbelief, and Brennan's eyes snapped back to his in surprise.

"Pardon my French, but that's bullshit." Hank held her gaze, daring her to argue with him. Brennan floundered for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Look, you don't have to talk to me about it if you don't want to, but…you need to stop blaming yourself."

"Hank…" She started to contradict him, but his eyes seemed to pierce through her carefully constructed facade. "It's not that I blame myself. I know who is responsible for the things that happened."

"But you're still angry at yourself," he challenged.

"Of course I am. I shouldn't have trusted my brother; I should have realized he was lying. I should have recognized my own _father_ no matter what he's done to his appearance…"

Hank sighed and placed his hand over hers. Her expression was heartbreaking and all too familiar.

"You know… I felt the same way when I found out what my son was doing to his family. I should have realized he was lying," he copied her. "I should have recognized that my son was an alcoholic and an abusive father. I should have seen the signs in my grandsons; I should have paid more attention. It shouldn't have taken what it did for me to figure things out. I walked in on my son beating his own child until he lost consciousness, and he was too drunk to even realize I was there until I got between them."

"It wasn't your fault, Hank," she insisted.

"Of course it wasn't. But that doesn't mean I didn't carry around that guilt for _decades_. There's no reason you should carry yours around for another second," he said firmly. Brennan's eyes welled with tears and she looked away self-consciously. "You be mad at _them_ , Temperance. Not at yourself."

Brennan blinked her tears away and pursed her lips. His reasoning was sound, but forgiving herself for her own perceived failures was easier said than done. After a few moments, she nodded, accepting his logic.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Anytime, Sweetheart. I'm sorry your family has let you down. Even sorrier that they've done it more than once. But you're part of _this_ family too, and we all love you. I've never seen my grandson so happy. I know I've said it before, but it's still true. You're good for him. Parker too."

Brennan smiled hesitantly and decided to follow her instincts, leaning forward to hug him. Generally speaking, she wasn't prone to physical displays of affection that didn't involve Booth. Even Angela's embraces felt awkward, and although it wasn't the first time she'd hugged Hank, it was the first time she had initiated it. Somehow it felt right.

"I love you too," she told him quietly. He smiled over her shoulder and patted her back paternally. As they pulled away from one another, the back door opened, and her Booth boys stomped in noisily.

"Hey, old man, you trying to steal my girl?" Booth teased them. His eyes met Brennan's, and he was happy to see a bit less stress in her features.

"Always," Hank retaliated. "You better watch your back, Shrimp." The three adults chuckled, but Parker looked confused.

"Bones, can we do your puzzle now?" the boy asked hopefully. Parker's gift for Brennan had been a one thousand piece puzzle depicting the human skeletal system. Each bone and suture was labeled, and Parker was eager for an anatomy lesson.

"Let's get you into some dry clothes first," she suggested.

"Okay!" he shouted as he streaked toward the staircase. Booth grinned and bent to kiss Brennan swiftly.

"More squint training?" he joked. Brennan gave him her sly, crooked smile.

"Of course."

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Brennan woke the next morning to the tickling sensation of Booth's lips at her neck. She moaned sleepily, shivering slightly as she realized that his hands were just as busy as his mouth. His fingers played softly over the skin of her abdomen, drifting slowly downward once he realized she was awake.

"Shhhh," he chastised her. "No one else is awake yet, and I'd really like to keep it that way for just a little while longer."

"Is that so?" she whispered. He nodded and allowed his mouth to skim along her jawline to her ear. "You sure you can be quiet enough?"

"Are _you_?" he challenged, pulling back to smile at her wickedly.

"No." They laughed together at her honesty, and he captured her lips in a soft, slow kiss. She moaned again, the sound muffled this time by his mouth, and her hands began an exploration of their own.

"Do you know what today is, baby?"

"Yes," she smiled. They had become more than 'just partners' exactly one year ago. "I think we should celebrate appropriately."

"That was the plan," he smirked, returning his lips to the pulse in her throat. He left a trail of kisses to her chest, drawing one perfect nipple into his mouth and teasing lightly with his tongue. Brennan gasped, doing her best to stay quiet as her hips lifted upward instinctively.

Booth caressed her center lightly, pleased to find that her body seemed to have reacted to his touch before she'd even fully awoken. He stifled a groan at the delicious feel of her slick folds, intentionally withholding the deeper touch he knew she was craving.

"Please," she whispered, when she'd finally had enough. He responded by plunging his fingers deep inside of her without warning, and she gasped in pleasure. He silenced her with another kiss, quickly bringing her to the edge and sending her right over with a skillful brush of his thumb to her sensitive nub.

Brennan whimpered against his lips as she trembled and shook against him. He withdrew his fingers as her spasms slowed, and she clung to his shoulders for another moment before flipping him onto his back. In the next instant, she was sinking onto his arousal, and this time it was she who silenced him.

He held fast to her waist and thrust upward as she rode him, driving his tongue into her mouth in time with the movement of his hips. When he felt her shatter around him once more, he couldn't hold back from his own release any longer, and they rode the intense waves of pleasure together, still smothering their cries with a passionate kiss. She collapsed onto his chest, breathless and sated. As their heartbeats slowed to a gentler rhythm, they listened nervously for sounds of movement beyond their bedroom door.

"I think we might have actually pulled that off," Booth whispered, sounding impressed. Her husky laugh fluttered across his bare chest, and he held her tighter against him, kissing the top of her head.

"Maybe Parker will go to bed early tonight," Brennan said hopefully. Booth grinned at her in agreement.

"I think that can definitely be arranged."

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Brennan returned to the lab two days after Christmas, and Hank went home that afternoon. When Booth and Parker arrived at the lab to take her home, Parker begged for a quick tour. Booth allowed it, but only because there were no remains on the platform at that moment. What he hadn't counted on, however, was that Hodgins would be in the process of cleaning the terrarium that usually housed his python. The snake was curved around his shoulders as he worked, and Parker let out a cry of sheer amazement.

"Hey, Parker! You want to pet him?" Hodgins asked, his eyes gleaming.

"No! We're not petting any snakes today," Booth intervened. Parker looked so disappointed that Booth actually relented, but only on the condition that he stayed away from the snake's teeth. The last thing he needed was Rebecca going back on their agreement because he'd let their son get bitten by a snake.

As soon as the snake was back in its proper place, Hodgins gave Parker a tour of his office, answering each of the boy's questions with more patience than Booth expected. He still remembered the angsty scientist he'd met two years before, snapping his rubber band around his wrist and verbally assaulting anyone who used the word 'dirt.' This Hodgins was different, and although it wasn't the first time Booth had noticed it, the change had certainly never been quite so obvious. He watched Hodgins' eyes light up as he taught Parker about cockroaches, and Booth realized he'd seen a similar look on the man's face before, usually when Angela had been around.

It took twenty minutes to coax Parker out of Hodgins' office and another fifteen to drag him away from the mummy in Brennan's. His son was curious to a fault, and the squints were more than willing to answer his questions until he ran out of things to say - which took a long time. They stopped at the diner on the way home, and Booth smirked proudly at the way his five-year-old son had wrapped their fifty-year-old waitress around his finger. Whenever they brought Parker in, their table was nearly always visited by the majority of the staff. Brennan had also once noted that Parker's glasses of chocolate milk never seemed to show up on their bills.

Brennan woke screaming that night, having returned to the buried car in her sleep. It had felt incredibly real, except that this time her attempt to save Hodgins had truly killed him, leaving her alone and terrified. Her anguished sobs woke Booth immediately, and he held her as she worked to slow her racing heart. Unfortunately, before the gasping and crying had passed, their bedroom door was nudged open by a very worried little boy.

"Is Bones okay?" he squeaked.

"Yeah, Parks, she's alright. She just had a bad dream."

"I'm okay, Parker. Even grown-ups have nightmares sometimes," Brennan assured him, working harder to breathe evenly. The frightened look on his face was heartbreaking, and she instantly felt guilty for being the one to put it there.

Booth was about to get up and take Parker back to his room when the boy crept toward Brennan's side of the bed and climbed up next to her. She looked surprised for a moment but quickly lifted the blankets so that he could lie next to her. His small arm curled protectively around her shoulder, and Brennan felt her eyes stinging with tears again.

"We can scare the bad dreams away, Bones. Daddy's really good at that, and I can help too."

Booth smiled with pride and lay back down, slipping his arm lightly around Brennan's waist and kissing her head tenderly. Parker drifted to sleep fairly quickly, but Brennan laid awake for a while, stroking the boy's wavy hair.

"You okay?" Booth whispered. Brennan nodded, squeezing his hand in reassurance but not trusting her voice enough to speak.

She had rarely felt so amazed or so lucky to be part of a family again.

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Booth took the rest of the week off work to spend with Parker, and by the time he stepped back into his office again, he'd been going stir-crazy for a few days. Brennan had laughed at him and called him a workaholic, but her tone had been affectionate, assuring him that she would never ask him to change.

Their first crime scene of the new year was quickly ruled a suicide, and Booth couldn't help but be thankful for it. He utilized the opportunity to stay on top of the search for Max and Russ, and as much as he loved working cases with Brennan, he could tell that she needed a little down time. Of course, getting her to stay away from the lab was impossible, but at least he had the peace of mind that she was in a safe place. The stress of the previous months was weighing on her heavily. She threw herself into Limbo cases, painstakingly cataloguing as many sets of remains as she could before Booth arrived to drag her home at the end of each day. The progress he'd made with her eating habits was regressing slightly as well. If Booth didn't show up with lunch, she would skip it altogether, claiming that she'd simply lost track of time.

There was only one evening that she had truly argued against leaving the lab at a reasonable hour. Up until that point, Booth had tried to let her compartmentalize as she needed to do, so long as she wasn't actively shutting him out. Still, he worried that her old work habits might resurface, and that worry became particularly strong the night that she insisted he go home without her.

"I'm not leaving you here to work all night, Bones. It's not necessary; we don't even have an open case."

"I'm aware of that, Booth, but I need to finish what I've begun." Her frustration was evident in her tone, but he wasn't backing down.

"You can finish it first thing in the morning. It's after eleven Bones, come on. Let's go home."

"I know what time it is," she sighed, glancing at him briefly. "You're tired. Why don't you go home, and I'll get a cab as soon as I'm done." The look he gave her made it perfectly clear that he would be doing no such thing. Booth's mouth tightened, and he shook his head at her stubbornness.

"Fine, you know what? I'll just sit right over here until you're ready to go."

Booth sat on a rolling desk chair near a computer terminal and gazed back at her expectantly. They stared one another down for a few moments before she sighed heavily and returned her attention to the exam table. She could feel his eyes on her, tracking her every movement as she examined each bone carefully, and after twenty minutes or so, she chanced another glance in his direction. His eyes were closed, but Brennan knew there was no way he could be sleeping on the uncomfortable chair. She could also tell from his posture that his back was already aching from a long workday.

With a long-suffering sigh, she carefully packed the remains back into their container and returned them to their proper place among the thousands of others, missing the sly grin that crept onto Booth's face as he heard her walk down the long row of storage containers. His expression was perfectly relaxed when she returned, and his eyes were still closed. Brennan watched him for a moment, admiring his handsome features before bending to kiss him tenderly.

The touch of her lips to his startled him for only a half-second before he responded eagerly, pulling her onto his lap before she realized his intent. Booth cradled her jaw in one of his large hands as he deepened the kiss, sighing happily when her arms encircled his neck to pull him closer. They quickly reached the point at which things would either escalate or have to be put on hold, and Booth grinned at her affectionately when at last they broke apart.

"We really should go home," he said softly. "I'd rather not give the security staff a show. _Or_ a sex tape to sell online," he snorted. The sound of her laugh warmed him even more than her kiss.

"There actually _aren't_ cameras down here, but you're right."

"How did you figure that out?"

"Angela told me."

"Of course," he smirked. "Alright, let's go home, baby. Before I decide to take full advantage of the poor security coverage."

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Toward the end of January, Brennan was scheduled to meet with her publisher to review and renew her contract, and Booth had insisted upon making the trip to New York with her. It had been planned early enough that he'd been able to work part of her Christmas gift into the trip, and once they'd gotten checked into their hotel, Booth decided she'd waited long enough to know where they were going.

The New York Hall of Science was on the verge of opening an exhibit on human anatomy, and Booth had gotten in touch with one of the curators to ask about the possibility of a preview for the world's top forensic anthropologist. The man had become extremely excited about meeting Brennan, and their visit was scheduled for right after their meeting with her publisher. Booth had wondered if he would ever get used to the way so many people seemed to trip over themselves in an effort to impress his girlfriend. Fame was something she had taken to fairly well, though both she and Booth preferred as much privacy as possible. Still, Booth wasn't above dropping her name on occasion if it meant that he could give her an experience he knew she would enjoy.

As he'd expected, Brennan was thrilled to hear the plan, and she spent the following hour talking his ear off about the things she'd heard from colleagues regarding the exhibit. Her only disappointment seemed to be that they still had to meet with her publisher first.

Brennan had been assigned a new publicist since her last book signing, and although she had never met the woman in person, they had corresponded by email over the last six months. The new woman, Ellen, had a unique personality that left both partners feeling slightly on edge. She was energetic and passionate about her job, but she was also more than a little rude, particularly toward her assistant, who looked like he might burst into tears at any moment.

"So _you're_ Agent Booth," Ellen greeted him smoothly. She'd apparently been eager to meet the man to whom Brennan had dedicated her second book. "I must say, it's nice to finally have a face for Agent Andy. It's no wonder the sex scenes have gotten progressively better in your last two books, Temperance."

Booth flushed slightly, knowing that the woman was most likely envisioning him acting out the steamier scenes, and Brennan pursed her lips at the woman's blatant scrutiny of Booth's anatomy. Ellen led them to a conference room and sent her assistant for refreshments before getting down to business.

Booth struggled to keep his jaw from dropping as Ellen gave them a quick review of the financial portion of the contract, but Brennan seemed to take it all in stride. Her accountant would be handling the fine details for her, so this part of the meeting was a formality more than anything else. Brennan peeked at Booth cautiously to gauge his reaction and reached for his hand under the table to reassure him. He squeezed it back and smiled awkwardly.

"Also, Temperance," Ellen said, eyeing her checklist, "Will the arrangements for your fan mail remain the same?"

"Yes," Brennan replied.

"What exactly _are_ those arrangements, if you don't mind?" Booth asked curiously.

"The agency keeps someone on staff to filter all incoming correspondence. That person either answers it with a form letter or turns over anything overtly threatening to the FBI New York field office."

"How often do threatening letters turn up?" he asked, feeling uneasy.

"As far as I know, there have only been a handful since the first book was published. I'm sure there are still more that have been suspicious but not clearly threatening in nature, and we keep those on file here," she explained.

"Why haven't you ever told me about that?" he asked Brennan gently. She quirked an eyebrow and shrugged in response.

"There was nothing to tell. I haven't read any of it in quite a while. The letters go somewhere else, and I rarely think about it."

Booth furrowed his brow but nodded, deciding to let it go for the time being. The only time he'd ever really thought about potential threats coming in that way was when he had been looking into possible explanations for a few anonymous calls Brennan had received last year. At first, he'd thought it was Peter, but after Brennan's abduction, Booth felt fairly certain that the calls had actually come from Max.

"Alright, well… Moving on," Ellen said, launching into a long-winded complaint about Brennan's refusal to do a book tour.

"My work forces me to cancel too many engagements as it is," Brennan insisted. "And the books sell well enough without it."

"Yes, they do, but I must remind you that you're contracted for at least five signings or readings per book. We already have a few scheduled for this spring, and they _can't_ be canceled," Ellen told her firmly.

"My work comes first. I've had this conversation many times, and my answer won't change." Her frustration was building, and Booth squeezed her hand again beneath the table.

"Look," he cut in, "How about we keep the events within a two or three hour radius of DC? At least that way you'll probably be able to make it even if we have an open case."

"I think we could manage that," Ellen agreed. Brennan looked skeptical but nodded her assent.

"What about event security?" Booth asked. This was the reason he'd been determined to tag along.

"Security is generally provided either by the venue or the agency itself. One to three security guards depending on the size of the venue and expected turnout. And of course, we keep an updated list of people who aren't permitted at the events, for one reason or another."

Booth nodded, recalling that he'd added a name to that list the previous summer. Oliver Laurier was a Class A creep, and he'd shown up at every one of Brennan's book engagements since he'd met her. Or at least he did before Booth had blacklisted him.

"I'll be at each event also," he announced.

"Booth, you can't possibly take off work every-"

"Sure I can. Cullen would want me there to watch your back, protect the FBI's asset and so on," he replied with a confident smile. Brennan rolled her eyes at being treated like a commodity, but she didn't bother to argue with him. She was pretty sure that his measure of Cullen's support was accurate. After all, the man had outfitted Booth with a helicopter and two additional snipers when she'd been kidnapped last summer.

They ended the meeting a short while later and made their way to the science museum. Booth watched happily as she gushed over the anatomy exhibit. In moments like this, she looked almost childlike with wonder, and Booth was glad that he'd been able to arrange the experience. He chuckled quietly at the antics of the star-struck curator, but Brennan didn't seem to notice the man's odd behavior. She was either too absorbed in her surroundings or else had become accustomed to being treated that way.

"Thank you, Booth," Brennan said as they took a cab back to the hotel. "Not just for the museum exhibit, but for coming with me this morning."

"Anytime, Bones. Plus, you know it was as much for me as for you," he admitted.

"Oh I know," she replied sarcastically. His fixation with her safety knew no limits. "But I really do hate going to those meetings alone."

"Well, then you won't have to anymore," he assured her with a gentle smile. She returned it and leaned across the seat to kiss him.

"You don't have any other plans, right? Because I find I'm rather looking forward to spending the evening in our hotel room," she whispered. Her breath ghosted across his ear, and he suppressed a shudder at her implication.

"Actually, that was _exactly_ what I had in mind."

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 **So next time we'll pick up with The Man in the Cell and the far-reaching effects of Howard Epps.**

 **Review if you've got a second or two, and thanks for reading!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Welcome back! Thank you all so much for the feedback (here and elsewhere). I haven't been feeling well the last couple of days, and I know there were probably some people I missed when responding to reviews. So I'll say it here - thanks a bunch! It's been harder to sit and write, but I'm doing my best to keep well enough ahead of you.**

 **So in this chapter, we're in the back half of S2, starting with The Man in the Cell, and as we know, this starts a rather dark and twisty arc for Booth. I expanded on a lot of it over the next few chapters, and I want to thank my beta chosenname especially for her help with that. My head was not a fun place to be when I was figuring out that mess.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 23

On the Friday following their return from New York, Booth and Brennan were woken by a very early phone call. Brennan listened sleepily as Booth spoke with his boss, and she could tell by the tone of his voice that it wasn't good news.

"Are you serious? ...Yes, sir, I understand. ...Yeah, we'll head over there right away." Booth ended the call and got out of bed, cursing under his breath when his feet protested the weight of his body.

"What is it?"

"Epps. They think he's dead."

"What do you mean they _think_ he's dead?" she asked in confusion, throwing the covers back to follow him into the bathroom.

"There was a fire, and they found a body in his cell."

"Which is why they need us," she surmised.

They showered and dressed quickly, and Booth found himself appreciating, not for the first time, that Brennan didn't seem to need as much time to get ready as most women. What he didn't see, however, was that she stowed her gun in her messenger bag before they left the house. They arrived at Bayview Federal Penitentiary as the sun was rising, and the warden led them to Epps' cell. The cell block was noisy, and Brennan's eyes narrowed as they passed a row of cells that held three or four times the number of occupants for which they were designed.

"Whoa. Are you allowed to put that many men in one cell?" Brennan asked. Booth scowled at the men, who were shouting suggestive and inappropriate things at his partner and reaching through the bars toward her as they passed.

"Just cut the warden a little slack, okay Bones? There was a riot," he said, pressing his hand a little more firmly to her back.

"The cell doors open automatically in a fire," the warden explained. "The guards had to subdue the inmates so the firefighters could do their jobs."

In the next instant, Booth felt her being pulled away from him by one of the dozens of hands reaching through the bars.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Booth retrieved her from their clutches quickly and moved her to his opposite side, keeping his arm around her and a hand on her arm as he glowered at the men. "You stay close, okay? A lot of these animals haven't seen a real woman since Reagan was President."

"Okay," Brennan grinned, rolling her eyes a little at his alpha male behavior.

The warden directed them toward the fire-blackened cell, and Brennan slipped her hands into a pair of latex gloves as she crouched down next to the body.

"Victim is male, approximately thirty years of age. He matches Epps' general size and build." She smiled in satisfaction as she continued, "Contortion indicates a... _painful_ death."

"Well, after killing four teenage girls that we know about, it's just what the doctor ordered," Booth replied. Brennan nodded and added that there was evidence of an accelerant, but she was concerned by what she discovered on the victim's wrist.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?" He looked up from his notes at the alarm in her voice.

"This is the wrist I broke."

"So…?"

"So this break is fresh," she replied in chagrin.

"So? Bones break in a fire, right?"

"Yes, but… There's no sign of a prior break. This man's wrist was slammed against a hard edge within the last few hours."

"Whoa, what are you saying?" he asked, afraid that he already knew.

"This is not Howard Epps," she concluded, frowning at the remains.

"That's impossible," the warden argued. Brennan continued to examine the body while Booth talked to the Warden but regained their attention a moment later.

"Whoa."

"What now?"

"They dye from this tattoo survived the fire… DC Fire Department. He was a firefighter." She sighed in disgust and stood up.

"So you're saying that the fireman comes in to save Epps, but Epps kills him, takes his uniform, sets him on fire-"

"And walks right out the front door," she finished, throwing her gloves on the floor in frustration. Booth instructed the warden to lock the place down and called the Bureau to set up a thirty-mile perimeter of the prison. She met his gaze with worried eyes. The last time they'd had a case involving Epps, Brennan had shot his accomplice to save Booth's life. She didn't regret her actions, but the incident still haunted her. She suspected that it always would.

"Come on, Bones," Booth said gently. "The forensic team is on their way. We need to track down Caroline Epps."

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"Hey, wasn't that article supposed to run in the Sentinel today?" Booth asked, hoping to take her mind off the past at least for a few minutes. They were in the SUV headed back to his office, and Brennan's expression was troubled and nervous.

"Yes. I haven't seen it yet," she replied distractedly. He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.

"It'll be alright, Bones. We've dealt with Epps before-"

"Yes, and we've never beaten him, Booth. It's always a game, and it never goes in our favor."

Booth sighed, not wanting to admit that she was right. He parked on the street, not bothering to ask if she thought she could handle the parking structure. The last thing Brennan needed was more anxiety today.

Caroline Epps was escorted to his office not long after the partners arrived, and Booth realized right away that the woman's life had changed quite a bit since they'd last seen her. She looked exhausted, and her eyes had certainly lost their delusional gleam. She claimed that her divorce had been finalized in January and that she hadn't seen or spoken to Epps in nearly five months. Booth wanted to put her in protective custody, but she refused, implying that she had nothing to fear from Epps since she wasn't 'his type.' She left with the promise to let Booth know if Epps contacted her.

"You can't let her go! She's not safe!"

"Well, I can't force her to take protection, alright?" Booth replied. "I'll have the local police drive by her house every couple of hours and make sure she's safe. And you know what? _You're_ not safe either."

"But I'm not _unhinged_ ," she argued, offended at his implication that she might be as vulnerable as Caroline Epps. "I can take care of myself."

"You and Epps… It's personal. You're everything that he hates."

"And what is that exactly?" she scowled.

"Well, you know… You're a smart, strong, confident woman," he reminded her. She smiled in spite of herself as he continued, "And you figured him out. You made him feel powerless, so he's gonna want to prove that you're weak and inferior." Booth looked her in the eye and spoke his next words clearly, "So, you are not to go out on your own _ever._ "

Brennan scoffed incredulously and opened her mouth to argue, but he rose from his chair before she could find the words, stepping out into the bullpen to speak to one of his junior agents. She couldn't hear what they were discussing, but when Booth returned, he had decided to change tactics.

"Let's head back to the lab. I'm sure they've started the analysis by now, and I know you want to be there."

Brennan rolled her eyes at his attempt to distract her but followed him from the room anyway. He was right, after all, but there was no way she was admitting it out loud.

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Booth's first priority when they reached the lab was to speak to Cam about increasing security. He suggested that it might be best for everyone to simply stay at the Jeffersonian until the danger had passed, though he knew that Brennan would never agree to stay barricaded in her lab. Cam agreed to double security and do her best to encourage everyone to stay put.

Booth crossed the lab to Brennan's office and was startled to see her holding her gun in her hand as she spoke to Angela.

"What the hell are you doing with that?" he demanded. _How the hell did she get that out of the house?_

"Last time you had to loan me your extra gun. This time I brought my own," she replied, as though this sort of thing happened every day.

"That thing is _huge_ ," Angela said with wide eyes. It really was. It was a Smith and Wesson .50 caliber 500, and it looked even bigger in Brennan's slender hand.

"Bigger than the one you have," Brennan added.

"Excuse me, it's not the _size_ that matters. It's how you use it."

"Well, I think size is pretty important," she smirked. Booth fought to conceal his pride at her successful use of innuendo. This wasn't the time.

"The point is that you shouldn't have a gun in the first place!"

"If you do have one, bigger is always better," Angela interrupted.

"You're not helping!" he glared at her.

"Right, yeah… This does seem like a private conversation." Angela grinned at the two of them staring each other down and left the office.

"Yeah, private," he agreed, shooing her out the door. "Okay. You know, if people see you with that, the next thing you know, everyone in this place is gonna start packing."

"This is America. Get used to it," she sassed. Booth gritted his teeth at her smug expression, but he didn't have time to retaliate before Brennan's desk phone rang. Her eyes lit up a moment after she answered it, and she mouthed 'Epps' in his direction. He motioned that she should try to keep him on the phone while he traced the call.

"We will find you, Howard," Brennan said calmly.

"We'll see," Epps challenged. "I can't tell you how nice it is to be out of that stupid orange jumpsuit. I mean, I have an IQ of 180, for God's sake, and they had me dressed like a pumpkin."

"You burned a man alive," she accused.

"Means to an end. Everything is a means to an end, Dr. Brennan." She stifled a shudder, hating the way he said her name.

"I thought it was just women you were after."

"I felt the need to grow as a human being."

"What is it you want? You must want something or you wouldn't be calling."

"Yes… I want you to know that everything that happens from here on in is _your fault_."

"What's going to happen, Howard?" she asked, hoping he couldn't hear the anxiety in her voice.

"I can't answer all your questions. Use your head, Dr. Brennan. Just… _use your head_."

The line went dead, and Booth was back in the room instantly.

"Okay, we've got it. He's on a payphone on Water Street and 23rd."

They raced to that location, but of course Epps was gone by the time they arrived. The receiver was dangling from the box, and as Brennan approached it, she noticed something out of place.

"Booth, Epps left us something," she said grimly, using a latex glove to pick up the object. It was a small vial containing some sort of white particles. Booth asked what it was, but she shook her head in disappointment. _Just another clue._

Booth drove her back to the lab, peeking at her frequently from the driver's seat. She looked like she felt ill, but his concern ran deeper than that. He was truly afraid for her safety. He hadn't been exaggerating earlier when he'd told her that Epps had a personal vendetta against her. Images of Epps' former victims flickered through his mind, and Booth's tension increased. Every inch of him felt as though he were on high alert.

He only hoped that this time he would be able to spot the danger before it could touch her.

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Brennan and her squints started the analysis on the white particles immediately after she and Booth returned to the lab. Brennan was disturbed to realize that the particles were actually bone fragments, and when Hodgins ran a sample through the mass spectrometer, he found traces of cardamom, tamarind, and kokum mixed in with the bone shards.

"Spices?" Zack asked in confusion.

"Yeah," Hodgins replied. "The bone wasn't cooked. Why add spices to it?"

"Epps like puzzles," Brennan reminded them. "The spices are a message."

Before she could expound on her theory, however, they were startled by the sound of feminine scream. The three of them sprinted from Hodgins' office to Angela's and found her staring in terror at an open cardboard box. Brennan looked inside and felt a wave of shock pass through her body. It was a human heart.

"Definitely human," Cam confirmed. "Adult. DNA can give us sex."

"He's killed _two_ people today," Zack said, sounding panicked.

"That's if this heart is from the same victim as the bone dust," Cam reminded him. She watched Brennan pull a folded piece of paper from inside the box. "What? What is it?"

"It's the DC Sentinel article about the lab," Brennan replied, unfolding the paper carefully. "Every line is blacked out except for one: 'Dr. Hodgins called Angela _the heart of the operation_.'"

"Son of a bitch!" Hodgins shouted. "You don't have to stay in here, Angela." He put his arm around her protectively to encourage her to leave the room.

"How did this even get in here?! I thought there was security!" Angela demanded.

"So did I. I...I'll take care of it," Cam said weakly as Hodgins finally succeeded in pulling Angela from the room. Brennan stared at the package with a tortured expression.

"He's coming after me through my friends," she said softly.

"What?"

"He told me that whatever happened would be my fault."

"Then we'll make sure nothing else happens," Cam replied nervously. She picked up the box gingerly and carried it to her office to start the analysis. Brennan followed, glancing toward Hodgins' office windows as she passed. He was holding Angela, who looked like she was doing her best to keep her composure. Booth joined Cam and Brennan in the autopsy room shortly after they'd begun the analysis.

"The package was delivered by a bike messenger," Booth announced. "He said a man matching Howard Epps' description approached him on L Street and paid cash."

"He's just playing with us," Brennan said in disgust.

"Not for long," he said firmly. Hodgins appeared in the doorway, still looking unhappy about the most recent developments.

"How's Angela?" Brennan asked.

"Angry. She insisted on helping me, which worked out well. She realized that the present Epps gave us was a _recipe._ "

"Wait, the heart?" Booth asked.

"No, the ingredients in the vial. After he ground up the bone, Epps mixed it with spices which are all used in making curries."

"Indian food," Brennan surmised, glancing at Booth. Her brow furrowed at his alarmed expression.

"Epps' wife… The last address we had for her was in Little India over a _curry restaurant_. Come on!"

Booth put an arm around Brennan and practically pushed her out of the room. If she was curious or concerned about his behavior, she didn't bring it up. Booth would have felt better leaving her at the lab, but the security there obviously had some gaping holes. He decided instead that she was better off where he could see her.

He led her through Caroline Epps' apartment building, encouraging her to stay behind him as they approached the door, but he looked back at her when he heard her checking the chamber of her gun.

"You know, I could have the Bureau pull your license," he threatened.

"Yeah, and I could assign Zack as your forensic anthropologist," she countered. Booth frowned at her for a moment before realizing she was joking.

He opened the door cautiously, his own gun drawn as they entered the apartment. It was empty.

"Place hasn't been rented since she moved," Booth deduced.

"You know, it's just not logical. Playing games with us? It's just going to lead us right to him," she said, flicking a light switch experimentally. The light fixture stayed dark but the refrigerator kicked on in the next room. "Wait… If the lights are off, then why is the refrigerator working?"

They approached it hesitantly, each of them remembering all too clearly the last time a refrigerator had been utilized as a weapon. Brennan grabbed his arm instinctively to pull him back.

"It's okay, you just stay back, alright?" Booth said softly. Brennan started to tremble as she watched him check behind the refrigerator. "Well, it's not booby-trapped."

He pushed her even further back and stood to the side to open it carefully. There was no bomb this time, but what they did find was just as disturbing. Booth felt his stomach lurch dangerously at the sight of Caroline Epps' severed head resting on the top shelf.

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"Epps told me to 'use my head,'" Brennan said distractedly, watching Cam pull white powder particulates from Caroline Epps' hair.

"Everything he says is a clue," Booth reminded them. "Could it be inside the head?"

"It's too early to tell," Cam replied.

"What do you mean, too early? All we have to do is just cut open the damn head and find out what's inside."

"But there are protocols, Booth," Brennan argued. Booth argued, but Cam agreed with Brennan.

"This is my autopsy. We're gonna do it by the book. That means surface exam, followed by x-rays, after which I will open the skull," she said firmly.

Booth grumbled in response, but Cam was already focused on the evidence once more. A few moments later, she announced that it appeared Caroline Epps had still been alive when she'd been beheaded.

"Now he's torturing his victims," Brennan said miserably.

"So let's torture him," Booth replied.

"How?"

"Bring his mother in."

"I thought Epps hated his mother," Cam said.

"His FBI profiler believes he was emotionally attached to her. His prison logs show that he wrote to her almost every day."

"Well _that's_ sick," she replied.

"But helpful. I mean, if he feels responsible for his mother being in jail, we can knock him off his game."

Booth placed the call to have an agent pick up Marian Epps, and Brennan left the lab with him shortly afterward. They stopped for lunch at Wong Foo's, asking Sid for something that would be easy on their stomachs. Booth decided not to mention that the request was due to the fact that they'd just found a victim's head in a refrigerator, and he was relieved that Brennan didn't share the information either. Brennan had a strong stomach, but she'd been looking nauseated ever since her phone call from Epps that morning.

Once they'd made it to the Hoover, they didn't have to wait long before an agent informed them that Marian Epps was waiting in the interrogation room. The woman claimed not to have seen or spoken to her son in years and believed him to still be in jail. When Booth informed her of Epps' escape, she seemed disappointed, lamenting the fact that she had tried to raise a good son. She quickly became defensive, assuming that Booth and Brennan were blaming her for her son's misdeeds. When it became clear that the woman had no information they could use, Booth had her escorted to a holding cell.

"Marian Epps is clearly a bad mother," Brennan declared once they were back in the SUV.

"You think?" Booth chuckled.

"But a lot of people have bad mothers, and they don't grow up to be serial killers, which is why I don't put much stock in psychology," she reasoned. Booth stifled a grin at the way she made _psychology_ sound like a dirty word.

"Bones… The guy's an animal. He's got no conscience."

"I don't know how one draws moral distinctions between killers."

It was a concept that had been on her mind for months. She couldn't seem to reconcile the fact her father had murdered three people, and those were just the ones they knew about. Considering the ease with which he seemed to have committed each murder, there was a high probability that he'd killed others in the past. But he was still her father, and she didn't like to compare him to someone like Howard Epps.

"Listen, Bones," Booth said gently. "There are crimes of passion, crimes committed in desperation, which are usually followed by remorse or acknowledgment of human failing. The key word here is _human_."

"The reasons for killing someone are unimportant. The life that's taken is all that matters," Brennan argued, her voice cracking slightly with emotion.

"Listen, you can't blame yourself here." Her statement carried a hidden double meaning, but Booth was pretty sure she wasn't thinking of anyone but Howard Epps...and perhaps Max. He could hear the guilt in her voice, and it worried him. He knew her mind well enough to know what was bothering her, and her next words only confirmed his suspicions.

"It's _me_ he's after. Angela and everyone else, they shouldn't be involved." She stopped short of including him in that assessment, knowing it would only irritate him.

"Alright, look. It's not your fault, alright? It's all _Epps_ , which is why I'm gonna take this little bastard down," he grumbled.

"Booth…" she said distractedly, looking into the side mirror in alarm. "Booth, we're being followed."

"Mm-Hmm, that's right," he chuckled. "Two agents, all the time, at a very discreet distance. See, I don't care how big your gun is, alright?"

"Are they following both of us or just me?" she demanded, looking displeased. He merely smirked at the car in front of them and answered his phone when it rang a moment later.

"Booth," he said into his phone. He scowled as Cam explained that she'd found something odd in Caroline Epps' ear. It was a token for a kids' ride at Hillside Park. Brennan frowned in concern at the sudden fear in his expression. "Oh God. My son plays there every day after school."

Brennan's eyes widened in shock, and she pulled out her phone to call Parker's nanny as Booth hit the siren and pulled a sharp U-turn.

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Rose, Parker's nanny, was easy enough to find, but Parker wasn't on the carousel where she'd thought he was. Booth, Brennan, and Rose called out for him repeatedly, searching the playground area frantically. It was Brennan who spotted him first.

"Booth! Over there." The boy was standing next to an ice cream vendor and holding a chocolate cone.

"Parker!" Booth was at his side in the space of two panicked heartbeats.

"Daddy!"

"Hey," Booth scooped him up and held him tightly, his hand at the back of his son's head as he tried to slow the rush of adrenaline that was pounding in his veins. He was momentarily dizzy with relief. "Oh, God… Alright…"

"Look, a man bought me an ice cream," Parker said with a smile when Booth had set him back on his feet. Booth knelt in front of his son, tossing the ice cream cone to the pavement and checking the boy for signs of injury. "That was my favorite," Parker whined.

"I'll buy you another one, okay? Just listen to me. This man, what did he look like?" Booth demanded frantically.

"A man," Parker shrugged. "He said he was your friend."

"What did he say to you? Did he say anything else to you, Parker?" He was vaguely aware that he was gripping his son's shoulders tightly, but he was more focused on _not_ hyperventilating.

"To use my napkin."

Brennan had been watching the exchange from behind Booth, and she bent down to pick up the napkin that had been wrapped around Parker's ice cream cone.

"Booth…" She handed it to him nervously.

"'My name is Parker. Ask me how I can solve this case.' Alright, what else did he tell you?" he asked Parker.

"Nothing, he was just nice," the boy insisted.

"Okay, just listen to me, Parker. This man is trying to hurt Daddy's friends. So I need you to think. What else did he say to you?" Booth was practically shouting into his son's face by this time, but it was his expression that scared Parker the most.

"I didn't do anything wrong. He said he was your friend," he cried.

"You _never_ talk to strangers, okay?! You _never_!"

"Booth," Brennan said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. Parker was crying in earnest now, and Booth mentally kicked himself.

"I'm sorry, buddy," he said, pulling Parker into another squeezing hug. "It's okay. I'm sorry."

"What's going on, Mr. Booth?" Rose asked in concern. The two agents tailing them had apparently called for backup, and the sudden appearance of men in FBI jackets was alarming the other parents and children in the park.

"There's just an investigation going on, okay Rose? I'm gonna have these agents take you and Parker home and keep you safe, alright?"

Rose nodded, and as soon as Booth released Parker to speak with the agents, the boy ran headlong into Brennan's arms. She made soothing sounds and rocked him a little, doing her best to comfort him in spite of the panic that was still surging through her own body. _This was way too close_ , she thought with an inward curse.

"I'm sorry," Booth said again as he hugged both Parker and Brennan together, kissing each of their foreheads in turn. "It's okay."

As soon as Rose and Parker were on their way to Rebecca's with their FBI security detail, Booth led Brennan back to the SUV with a shaking hand to her back. He was on the phone with Cam as soon as they'd pulled into traffic.

"Have you opened the head yet?" Booth asked her angrily. Cam grunted with exasperation.

"I just finished telling Zack-"

"Listen Epps went after _my kid_ , Cam," he interrupted.

"Parker…"

"You know there's something there. He told us. It's something we need. He wants us to find it." Booth spat short, concise sentences at her through the phone, a clear sign that he was on the verge of losing control. Brennan didn't blame him. Though she had been the first to remind him of protocol earlier, if she'd been standing next to Cam at that very moment, she'd have picked up the saw herself.

"You're upset," Cam acknowledged.

" _Of course I'm upset!_ Listen, I _know_ there are protocols, but he could've _killed my son_."

Booth hung up on her, barely managing to stop himself from chucking his phone at the dash. Brennan pried it out of his hand and tucked it into his pocket before taking his free hand into both of hers.

"Parker's okay," she reminded him, doing her best to infuse her voice with a calm she didn't truly feel. "It was a close call, but _he's okay_. Take a breath."

He nodded and did as he was told, noting that her hands were shaking as well. Booth knew that she loved Parker, and the fact that she had been equally frantic was reassuring. He felt horrible for scaring Parker, but his parental instincts had taken over.

"I scared him," he said miserably.

"He'll be okay," she replied without hesitation. "Children are resilient, and you were simply responding to a biological imperative to protect your offspring. Your reaction was completely natural."

Booth squeezed her hand and took another breath, finding her 'squint talk' somehow more comforting than usual. If nothing else, he knew that he could depend on her consistency. What amazed him was that she had clearly been reacting to that same 'biological imperative,' whether her connection to Parker was biological or not. His lips quirked slightly as he voiced the thought.

"Biological, maybe, but I think you mean _anthropological,_ " he said, surprising her with his use of the term. "You were feeling it too."

"Yes," she admitted solemnly. "I find that I would very much like to watch Howard Epps suffer…"

"Amen," he said darkly. His phone rang again, and he answered it quickly. "Hey, Hodgins, anything new?"

Brennan watched his face pale as he put the phone on speaker.

"You gotta get to the hospital right now. It's Cam."

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When Cam had cut into the skull mere minutes after Booth had hung on her, a puff of white dust had been expelled directly into her face. It was some sort of poison that had caused her to lose respiratory function almost immediately, and she had collapsed on the floor of her autopsy room, her body seizing and foaming with the effort to expel the poison.

Booth was overcome with guilt at the sight of his friend lying unconscious in a hospital bed, and when the doctor advised them to call Cam's family, he had to force himself not to be sick. He didn't have phone numbers for any of Cam's family anymore, but Angela had thought to bring Cam's cell when they'd followed the ambulance to the hospital. Booth gave her the names, and Angela agreed to make the calls.

Brennan held his hand as he watched through the glass doors while the nurses tended to Cam. He hadn't thought it would be possible to be angrier at Howard Epps than he'd been when he realized he was targeting Brennan, but he'd been wrong. Parker's near-miss incident combined with the fact that Cam would die if they couldn't identify the poison in time had Booth absolutely livid.

"It's not your fault, Booth," his girlfriend said softly, squeezing his hand tightly.

Booth knew she meant well, but he couldn't bring himself to agree. He sighed and turned to gather her into his arms. They held each other for several minutes, ignoring the hospital personnel passing by as well as the occasional stare. It wasn't until they heard Hodgins' voice that they pulled apart.

"Zack saw everything."

"How close was he?" Brennan asked.

"A few feet."

"And he's fine. So it's probably not a toxic gas…"

"Zack says it was some kind of powder. Which means there could be traces on her clothing."

"Just work fast, okay Hodgins? Just work fast," Booth pled. Hodgins nodded grimly and started to leave, but Brennan asked him to wait.

"I'm going back to the lab to help with the analysis. You stay here; I'll get a ride with Hodgins, okay?" she told Booth gently. He looked like he wanted to argue with her, but he surprised her.

"Yeah, okay. Just until her family gets here, then I'll be at the lab. You've got extra security on you," he reminded her. "Don't be stubborn and try to ditch them or anything, okay?"

"Of course not," she assured him, kissing him goodbye. "I'll call you."

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While Brennan was gone, Cam woke up for long enough to speak a few gravelly words to Booth. She refused to accept his apology for pushing her to bypass her protocols, insisting that Epps had been the one to poison her, not him. She lapsed back into unconsciousness fairly quickly and continued to decline. By the time Brennan returned to the hospital with her security detail, the hospital staff had been forced to intubate.

He looked up hopefully when she entered the room and accepted the comfort of her embrace as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She assured him that Hodgins was working very hard to identify the poison and would call or come to the hospital as soon as he solved the puzzle.

"Epps called and gave me a clue," she told him.

"What is it?"

"He said, 'The body knows what the head won't say.'"

"Caroline's body," he assumed.

"I think so, yes. You were right. He was pretty upset when he found out that we had his mother," she said smugly.

"You told him?" he asked, chuckling in spite of the gravity of the situation. "That's good. Make the bastard sweat."

"He said we'd be sorry," she admitted nervously. If she were being honest with herself, Brennan would have been forced to admit that she was afraid she'd only made things worse. But Booth had thought that throwing him off his game would be a good idea, and she trusted his judgment. She also had to admit that it had been rather vindicating to hear the panic in Epps' voice.

They left the hospital together a few minutes later, after Cam's sister Felicia arrived. Booth didn't recall much about Felicia other than the fact that she and Cam didn't always get along, but he was relieved to see that the woman seemed to be genuinely upset over the situation.

Hodgins and Zack were still trying to identify the poison when the partners got back to the lab, and Booth had a difficult time reigning in his frustration when he spoke to them.

"Hey, what's the poison?" he asked expectantly.

"I don't know yet," Hodgins answered ruefully. He and Zack both looked extremely frazzled, but Booth was short on patience.

"Well, what _do_ you know?"

"It's none of the common poisons: arsenic, cyanide, mercuric chloride."

"Let's start by telling the hospital what it isn't then, okay? What was in Caroline Epps' hair?"

"The white powder? It was just common plaster dust," Hodgins shrugged.

"There was also a very small amount of sodium hydrosulfide in her ear," Zack added.

"Great, put those two together, and what do we have?" Booth asked.

"Drywalling and…"

"Leather goods?" Zack stammered.

"Great," Booth said bracingly. "I'll look through the evidence and see if I can't find those two things." He began to walk away from Hodgins' office, but Zack called out to him again. "What?" he asked, his irritation growing.

"We're endowing Epps with intelligence he doesn't have. His clues are unsophisticated word games," he pointed out.

"Yeah…?"

"Uh… 'My name is Parker, ask me how I can solve this case.'"

"I already asked Parker; he doesn't know anything," Booth argued.

"It doesn't have to be your son. It can be something else named Parker. Something to do with leather goods or drywall. Do a Boolean search," Zack suggested. Booth shook his head irritably to convey that he had no earthly idea what Zack was talking about. "Okay, right, you don't know what is. Boolean is-"

Booth moved into Zack's personal space almost threateningly, and the younger man sat at the computer terminal looking satisfactorily intimidated.

"I won't explain; I'll just do it," Zack said weakly. Booth began to walk away again, but they called him back a second time. "Uh, there's a Parker and Parker Leather Goods owned by the Parker brothers on Parker Street in the town of Parker just outside of Arlington. That's a lot of Parkers."

"Yeah, okay, let's go," Booth said, grabbing Zack's tie to pull him out of the office. "Let's grab your boss and get going. Come on."

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Brennan had expected the leather goods shop to be undergoing some sort of construction, considering the plaster dust they'd found in Caroline Epps' hair, but the place was in pristine condition. With the exception of the beheaded body of Caroline Epps laid out on a work table in one of the back rooms, of course.

Booth and the SWAT team entered the building first, and Brennan followed closely behind with Zack. A ziploc bag of white powder rested on Caroline's stomach, and Booth circled the table cautiously in search of a trip wire but found none. He ordered the agents outside to jam all frequencies so that a remote detonator would be useless.

"There it is," Brennan said, gesturing to the bag. "On her stomach, the poison. Just like Epps said." Before Booth could say another word, Zack was skirting around his boss and reaching toward the bag.

"I'll just-"

"No, Zack, no!" Booth shouted as something beeped from within the body. "Don't hesitate! Put your palm on the stomach and press down." Zack obeyed and handed the evidence to Brennan.

"What?" she demanded.

"That was a pressure trigger. The body's booby trapped; everybody out!" The SWAT team followed his order, but Brennan had to be pushed forcibly from the room. "Out, Bones."

"I want to help," she protested. Booth signaled one of the other agents to escort Brennan out of the building. She did not go quietly.

It took three of the five SWAT operatives to manhandle her out to the street, and within a few moments, the front shop window was blown out by an explosion. Brennan's ears rang as she shouted for Booth and Zack, and she couldn't be held in place for another second. She was nearly to the ruined doorway when she saw them. Booth was supporting most of Zack's weight, but both were conscious and very much alive.

Under different circumstances, Zack might have been embarrassed at Brennan's unthinking show of affection as she hugged him. Her arms were actually around both of them, and she was sobbing in acute relief.

"We're okay, Bones. Help me get him off the sidewalk, okay?" Booth was grunting under Zack's weight, and Brennan was quick to take Zack's opposite side. Once he was settled with the EMTs who had arrived, Brennan forced Booth to sit long enough to examine his lacerations. He chuckled under his breath at her scowling expression.

"You didn't beat up any of my agents, did you?" he teased.

"No," she huffed. "But it was a very close call."

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 **Thanks for reading! Review if you can; I could use the motivation at the moment. Next chapter we've got the end of Epps, a mega angsty Booth, a bit of smut, and of course, clowns in peril.**

 **See you Wednesday!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Welcome back, and thanks for following my story. :) The necessary changes should be fairly obvious I think. Moving Brennan out of her apartment before this episode made the logistics a bit tricky, but I think it still works well. Special thanks to chosenname for helping me psychoanalyze Booth. The result was some truly great BB conversation I think. Hope you enjoy, and please review. :)**

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Chapter 24

Booth was grateful once again for Brennan's diligence in keeping spare changes of clothing for them in her office. He usually tried to carry extra in the SUV as well, but if he'd been forced to wear the clothes from his gym bag today, he would've found himself in a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt. That wouldn't have worked all that well, considering it was February. He noticed that his green canvas jacket kept making its way back to her office when he needed it at times like this, and the thought made him smile. He knew it was one of Brennan's favorites.

They had decided to put out a false report that the explosion had not only killed Zack but had also left Booth in critical condition. Both of them felt it was more than a little odd to hear their names on the news that way. They were banged up and sore, but all things considered, they were both extremely lucky.

Across the lab, Hodgins was still bent his equipment, thinking aloud as he analyzed the evidence. He didn't notice when Angela came to lean against the open doorway.

"Are you talking to the evidence?" she joked with a weak smile.

"Just...working through this as systematically as possible," he replied.

"You know...when this whole thing is over, I am moving to a doorman building. I'm getting an unlisted number, and I am hiring a full-time bodyguard named Knuckles."

"Don't get paranoid," he grinned.

"That's funny, coming from a conspiracy theorist," she replied with a smile and a yawn. "I'm also going to make sure that my next neighbors aren't allowed to do their own renovations. The people next door to me right now are remodeling at all hours, and the noise is ridiculous."

The computer beeped next to Hodgins, and his eyes lit up at the display.

"Of course! Methyl bromide!" he exclaimed. Hodgins kissed Angela quickly and told her he would call the hospital. Within minutes, he was in Brennan's doorway to report his findings, with Angela following closely behind. By the looks of things, the only thing they were interrupting was Booth's pacing.

"Methyl bromide mixed with plaster dust," Hodgins announced proudly. "That's what made it so hard to isolate."

"What's the treatment?" Booth asked.

"Racemic epinephrine. I called the hospital; they're starting an IV."

Brennan frowned at the inexplicable presence of plaster dust mixed with the poison, but the conversation was already moving on.

"Bones, I think I'm gonna go to the hospital for a while now that they've got a treatment plan. You really should get some rest; it's late. I don't really want you home alone though," he said, looking troubled. Angela spoke up from the doorway.

"I don't want to be alone either, Bren. How about you stay with me tonight? I could use the company."

Brennan gave it a moment's thought but eventually agreed. She _was_ tired, and she knew that Booth would want to spend a little time at the hospital with his friend. Normally, she'd have just slept on her office couch for a few hours, but the plea in Angela's voice had reached its intended target. Brennan knew that Angela had been battling a good deal of fear that day, particularly since Epps had sent a human heart directly to her office. She supposed that a 'slumber party' was the least she could do for her friend at the moment. Not to mention the fact that Zack couldn't go home.

"That's fine, Ange," Brennan said with a nod. "Zack, since you can't go home, why don't you sleep here in my office?"

"Good idea," said Booth. "I'm gonna put an agent outside your door, alright Angela? They'll check the apartment when you get there." Angela nodded and thanked him. Zack thanked Brennan and stretched with a slight wince.

Hodgins went with Booth to the hospital while Brennan rode with Angela to her apartment. The agents did indeed check Angela's apartment before leaving them for the night, telling Brennan that there would be an agent in the lobby downstairs as well as right outside Angela's door.

"I apologize in advance for the early morning we're bound to have," Angela said once the door was locked. "The neighbors are renovating, and they usually get started at an ungodly hour."

"It's okay," Brennan said vaguely, willing her exhausted brain to form the connection she knew they were missing. Angela continued to talk as she started to make up the couch for her guest, but Brennan wasn't listening.

 _Plaster dust…_

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Booth and Hodgins watched Cam for signs of consciousness, but she remained still. Hodgins noted that they had extubated her, but the doctor was still hovering.

"Why is it taking so long?" Booth asked anxiously.

"It's not," the doctor smiled. "She's responding."

The doctor left the room, and Cam's eyes opened a few minutes later.

"Camille?" Booth asked.

"Seeley," she acknowledged in a scratchy voice. Hodgins sighed in relief.

"Don't call me Seeley," Booth teased her, cocking his head expectantly.

"Don't call me Camille," she countered. Their age-old inside joke was reassuring to both of them, and Booth smiled at her in approval.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I got poisoned by a disembodied head full of plaster dust," she replied dryly.

"Plaster dust," Hodgins echoed from the other side of her bed. "Plaster dust… Oh, God."

"What?" Booth demanded, alarmed by the look of fear on Hodgins' face.

" _Plaster dust_. Angie told me earlier that the apartment next to hers was being renovated."

Booth's eyes widened, and he was out the door in the next second, Hodgins close on his heels.

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"Ange, I want you to put on some music, and... and _hide_ ," Brennan told her friend urgently.

"What? Why?"

"Just hide," she repeated. "And don't come out until I tell you it's safe."

Angela watched in horror as Brennan pulled her gun from her messenger bag, gesturing at her to be quiet and do as she'd been told. Angela ran to the bedroom and turned on her stereo before closing herself up in the closet. She could hear Brennan start the shower, and she struggled to stay quiet.

Brennan wanted to call Booth, but she knew that Epps could very well be close enough to hear the conversation. She also wasn't sure how much time they had, and her phone was in the living room. Brennan stood in the bathroom listening carefully for sounds of movement in the apartment. When at last she heard what she'd been waiting for, she quickly realized that the footsteps belonged to a man of Epps' build. And they were approaching the bathroom.

She stepped into the doorway quickly, her gun trained on Epps. He was holding a crowbar at the ready, but the look of surprise on his face made Brennan smirk with satisfaction. Epps turned as if to escape back the way he'd come, but that was no longer an option.

"Dead end," Booth told him, aiming his own gun at the man. He stepped slowly closer to Epps, glancing only briefly at Brennan to make sure she was unharmed.

"You won't let me shoot him, will you?" Brennan said, sounding disappointed.

"You knew he was gonna be here?" Booth asked, trying to focus on Epps rather than his frustration at the idea that she had willingly put herself in danger.

"It's the only scenario that made sense," she said simply. Epps eyed the open french doors that led to the small balcony.

"What, you heading for the balcony, Howie? Hope you can fly, cause that's about a fifty foot drop, right Bones?"

"Yeah."

"How did you know?" Epps demanded of her.

"Plaster dust in the poison," she replied scathingly.

"Renovations to the apartment next door," Booth added.

"You're not all that smart, turns out."

"One minute," Epps said, visibly angry. "All I want is one minute alone with you." He gripped the crowbar tighter, and Booth shifted nervously.

"Fine with me," Brennan sassed, cocking the pistol in her hand.

"Don't provoke the lunatic, alright?" Booth urged her before addressing Epps. "You got nowhere to go."

"I'm not going back to jail."

"You see, that's really not your decision, Howie. Get your hands up. Drop the crowbar."

The panic in Epps' expression mounted, and rather than drop the crowbar, he flung it across the room into a lamp, shattering it and plunging the room into darkness. In the next instant, he was running toward the balcony and leaping over. But Booth was faster than Epps expected. He caught hold of the man's arm at the last second, struggling to pull him back over the railing. Brennan appeared at his side, peering over the railing to see Howard Epps panting with fear.

"You're not getting away," Booth grunted.

"Look who's the killer now, Agent Booth," he sneered. Booth asked Brennan to help, but she couldn't reach any part of Epps no matter where she stood on the balcony.

"Grab the railing," Booth ordered him. Epps was hanging by one hand and not attempting to help Booth keep his grip.

"You're gonna drop me anyway. Just get it over with." Genuine tears of fright filled Epps' eyes as his hand slipped a little.

"You son of a bitch," Booth growled.

"Are you saying you don't want me dead?"

" _I'm not you."_

"Oh really? You're not thinking of the world with me still in it?" Epps challenged him, his gaze flickering to Brennan. "Going after Dr. Brennan? Your son?"

"I'm not you," Booth repeated. He tried to redouble his grip, but Epps hand slipped completely from his, sending the man to the pavement with a sickening thud.

Booth and Brennan looked at his body in shock, but Brennan was the first to recover, snapping her eyes to Booth's face. What she saw there alarmed her, and she immediately wrapped her arms tightly around him. He returned the embrace, panting with the surge of adrenaline. Booth could hear sirens wailing through the rushing sound in his ears, and after a few moments, Brennan murmured Angela's name. She pulled out of his arms reluctantly and went back inside to find her friend.

Booth let her go and couldn't help but stare down at the sidewalk again. _What happened?_ he thought desperately. The realization that he was responsible for another man's death was not met with the emotion he would have expected. Instead, it was...

 _Relief_.

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Angela had gone home with Hodgins, and Booth seemed to be in a sort of daze. Brennan watched him nervously while they gave their reports to the agents on the scene. Everyone agreed that there was nothing more Booth could have done for Epps, but Booth remained silent. He didn't even argue when Brennan took his keys from his pocket to indicate that she would drive them home.

Booth was caught in a circular pattern of thought, replaying the incident over and over in his mind as though the images were actually imprinted upon his brain. He'd told Epps that he wasn't like him, and he had believed that to be true. Why, then, did he feel no remorse over the man's death? Could he have held on longer? Could he have pulled him up if he'd truly wanted to badly enough? Epps' words echoed in his ears: _You're not thinking of the world with me still in it?_ Of course he'd been of thinking that. Was that why he'd allowed Epps to fall?

They arrived home, and Booth was pulled from his troubled musings by the appearance of a glass of scotch on the coffee table in front of him. Brennan hadn't poured one for herself, but her eyes never left his face as he took a drink.

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked quietly. He hadn't forgotten the thrill of fear he'd felt when he realized that Brennan had set a trap for Epps. _What if Hodgins hadn't figured it out?_

"There wasn't time. I didn't realize it until we got there, and there were only minutes between me telling Angela to hide and Epps coming into the apartment. I wasn't sure if he would be close enough to hear the call. He might've run, and… I wanted this mess to be over. Even if that meant I'd have to shoot him," she admitted.

Booth nodded in understanding, feeling ashamed for thinking that she had somehow deceived him in order to confront Epps on her own. His hands shook as he took another drink, and when he'd returned the glass to the table, Brennan took his hands into hers.

"Booth," she whispered, pleading with him to look at her. When he did, his eyes were tortured and dark, and Brennan's chest contracted sympathetically. "I'm okay. _We're_ okay. Parker's safe. We'll see him tomorrow morning," she reminded him.

"Yeah," he acknowledged softly.

"It was an accident, Booth. Everyone saw what happened. Me, the agents on street... No one thinks this was anything other than an accident. You can't save everyone, and he… he didn't even want to be saved, Booth."

Booth nodded and stared at their joined hands. He thanked her quietly and got up from the couch, pulling her to her feet as well. He remained silent as they got ready for bed, and Brennan's arms went around him immediately when he slipped between the sheets. He hugged her back, resting his ear directly over her heart and allowing its steady rhythm to soothe him.

She felt him trembling slightly, and she pressed her lips to the top of his head, making shushing noises and stroking his bare skin. It took Booth hours to fall asleep, in spite of how exhausted he was. He forced himself to focus on her words of logic and reason: _You can't save everyone_.

Booth drifted off eventually, feeling grateful that he had at least been able to save his family.

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They picked Parker up early the next morning and headed to the park. The little boy argued against returning to the same park 'where the bad guy talked to him,' but Booth insisted that it would be alright. He didn't want Parker's last memory of the place to be one of fear, and he knew that the nanny would likely bring him back at some point.

He placed Parker on the carousel, and the two bumped fists before he took a seat on a bench next to Brennan. They watched Parker as the ride began to move, sending Parker's horse surging upward. They lifted their hands in simultaneous waves to the little boy as the ride carried him temporarily out of sight. After another full circuit, Parker was smiling his usual carefree grin.

"He seems okay now," Brennan commented.

"Yeah, I'm afraid I freaked him out the other day. He shouldn't have to be scared of this place. I gotta make that right," he replied solemnly.

"That's you all over... _making things right_."

"Yeah, well it's… it's important. I just don't always know how."

Brennan winced at his pained expression and dejected tone, squeezing the hand she was holding to reassure him. He met her gaze and tried to force a smile, switching hands so that he could put his arm around her shoulders. She melted into him, and they shared a deep sigh, smiling again at Parker as he completed another circuit on the carousel.

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Booth was quiet and reserved throughout their weekend with Parker. It was clear to Brennan that he was doing his own fair share of compartmentalizing at the moment, and although she could identify with his desire to cope that way, his demeanor concerned her. He spent the whole of Saturday attempting to keep his son occupied and happy, and Brennan did what she could to help with that endeavor. However, when at last Parker had fallen asleep that night, she felt compelled to address his obvious distraction.

"Booth." They were lying in one another's arms, as always, and he pulled his head back slightly to look at her.

"Hmm?"

"You need to talk about it," she said hesitantly. He stiffened slightly but didn't reply, so she continued. "You have nothing to feel guilty over. There was nothing more you could have done."

"I let him fall, Bones," he contradicted her.

"No, you didn't. I was there, and that wasn't how it happened. You'd been up for over eighteen hours, Booth. A bomb went off less than ten feet from you. You were exhausted and weaker than usual-"

"There was nothing wrong with my hands. I… I didn't want to save him."

"But you still tried," she maintained. "And even if you hadn't, no one would blame you for wanting Epps dead."

"It's just like you said, Bones. 'The reasons for killing someone are unimportant; the life that's taken is all that matters.' There are no moral distinctions between killers," he replied miserably.

Brennan sat up abruptly and looked at him in shock, not having expected to have her own words thrown back at her that way.

"Booth, that is _not_ what I meant. I wasn't talking about _you_ when I said those things; I was referring to Epps. You know that," she insisted, her tone almost pleading. He merely shrugged in response, and Brennan shook her head quickly, determined to correct his misconception. "Booth, that wasn't about you. I was talking about Epps, and… and maybe my father. I don't think of you like that. It didn't even cross my mind that you might take it that way."

He sighed and nodded, not knowing what else to say about it. She took his silence as encouragement to keep talking.

"Aside from that… Epps' death was a true and honest _accident_. There was no way you could have saved him, especially since Epps _wanted_ to die, Booth. Hell, if you can't think of it as an accident, then you should consider it a suicide. He went over that balcony on his own free will. I mean, what did he really _think_ was going to happen? When you grabbed his hand, you only delayed the inevitable."

"Okay, Bones," he soothed her, trying to pull her back against him. "Calm down, it's okay." Brennan returned to his arms with a reluctant sigh, worried that some off-hand comment she'd made had somehow given him the impression that she thought of him as a murderer. It couldn't be farther from the truth.

"I don't want you to think that I really believe those things about you. I _know_ you're a good man."

"I know, baby. Look… let's talk about this tomorrow, okay? We're still tired from such a long day yesterday, and… I need time to think things through. Alright?"

"Okay," she said softly. She searched his features with concern etched onto her own face, and Booth moved his hand to smooth out the creases between her brows. "I love you, Booth."

"I love you too. Don't worry, okay? I'll be alright." He gave her a sad smile that didn't fool her in the slightest. Brennan kissed him softly, lingering longer than he expected, and he appreciated her effort to comfort him. "Get some sleep, Bones. We can talk more tomorrow." She knew that he would most likely avoid the subject the following day, but she nodded anyway and tried to sleep.

Booth couldn't fault her logic, but that didn't mean he agreed with her. Not deep down. Epps' words were still haunting him. He knew that the psychopath had been trying to screw with his head, but that didn't make his statements any less true. Epps had brought up Booth's family and challenged his need to protect them. Now Booth was left to wonder if some primal instinct to defeat his enemy had undermined his strength.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. As Brennan's breathing leveled out into a steady, relaxed rhythm, he recalled the rest of the conversation he'd repeated back to her. His own words had actually been worse, at least in hindsight.

" _There are crimes of passion, crimes committed in desperation, which are usually followed by remorse or acknowledgment of human failing. The key word here is human."_

It was that concept that left him with the most guilt. He hadn't felt remorse when he'd looked down at Epps' broken body. No, he'd felt relief. _Relief_ at another person's death. What did that make him?

Did that unconscious lack of remorse make him less human?

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As Brennan expected, Booth did his best to avoid the subject for the rest of the weekend, and when he returned home from work on Monday, his temper seemed to be lurking just beneath the surface. She had decided to give him the time he'd requested, but watching him build up his metaphorical walls was unnerving. She didn't know how else to convince him that what had happened wasn't his fault.

When they went to lunch on Tuesday, Brennan hoped that a return to their usual routine would cheer him up, but the tension was still there beneath his smiles and careful humor. Booth's phone rang as they exited the diner, and he listened to the caller while holding the door open for a line of people who ducked under his arm. Not one of them said thank you, which only seemed to irritate him further.

"Florida? Today?"

"Is that work?" Brennan asked hopefully, wondering if an out-of-town case might be a good distraction for him.

"Yeah. ...Hot, fun, Miami, Florida or you know...sticky, swampy Florida?" he asked the caller. At least the line of people had ended, and he gave them a sarcastic, "You're welcome."

They began to walk down the sidewalk as an ice cream truck rounded the corner, blaring loud, circus-like music into the air. The truck made slow progress down the street in the same direction that she and Booth were walking.

"What's going on in Florida?" she asked curiously.

"Wait a sec," he told her. "What flight? Hold on a sec; I can't hear you." He turned to shout at the ice cream truck driver. "Enough with the song already, alright?"

"I'm doing business here. Deal with it!" the man yelled back.

"Hold on a second," Booth told the caller. "Now my pen's out of ink." Brennan immediately dug into her bag for a new one and handed it to him. He began to take more notes but stopped again only a moment later, "Oh, hold on. I can't hear anything."

"The kids love the music," the driver argued.

"Well, I don't see any kids," Brennan shouted back over the noise.

"The music attracts them!" the man yelled. Meanwhile, Booth was still trying to get information over the phone, and he felt his frustration mounting dangerously.

"Did you say Everglades? ...Look, I can't hear anything because of this _insane music!"_

Before he fully realized what he was doing, Booth had drawn his gun and fired three shots into the clown head speaker that was mounted on top of the ice cream truck. The driver looked terrified, and the other pedestrians screamed and took off in opposite directions. Brennan stared at him in acute shock, her mouth gaping open almost comically.

Booth took no notice of anyone's reaction, finally succeeding in obtaining the flight information. The truck driver shouted accusations at him that fell upon deaf ears, and when Booth ended his call, he turned to Brennan with a smile.

"Okay! We're all set." He was caught off guard by her flabbergasted expression. "What?"

" _That was not good,"_ she said slowly, turning her eyes to the clown speaker, which was now on fire. He followed her gaze a bit numbly and knew she was right.

 _Oops._

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"So?" Brennan asked when she got home that night. "What happened?"

"Suspended with pay, reinstatement pending a psychological evaluation by some FBI shrink," he grumbled, pulling their dinner out of the oven. Brennan sighed and contemplated the situation for a moment before answering.

"Okay, well… It could be worse," she acknowledged. "What about the case in Florida?"

"They still want you. You're supposed to fly out tomorrow morning. They're going to assign you a local agent." He couldn't meet her eyes as he spoke, afraid that she would be as disappointed in him as he was in himself. His own actions had unnerved him, and he didn't really know what to make of things.

Brennan pulled two plates down from the cabinet and set them on the counter next to him before retrieving two beers from the refrigerator. She would always be the last person to condone psychology, but in this instance, she couldn't help but feel that it might be good for Booth to be forced to talk to someone about everything that had happened. He had closed his emotions off to her over the past two days, and she had no idea how to get him talking again. Brennan was torn between compassion for his need to compartmentalize and fear that he didn't trust her with his pain.

"Maybe it'll be a good thing," she said hesitantly, hoping she wasn't about to provoke his quick temper with her words. "It might help you to talk to an objective outsider about Epps and...other things." Brennan was fairly certain that there was more to his outburst than merely Epps' death, but she didn't want to badger him about it for fear of overwhelming him.

"Maybe," he shrugged, filling their plates and carrying them to the table. "I just hate that you'll be on a case without me, I guess."

"Well, obviously I'd prefer you were with me too, but… I'll be alright. You don't need to be driving yourself crazy with worry because you think I won't be safe without you, Booth. You have to trust that I can do my job and keep myself safe whether you're with me or not."

"I trust you, Bones. You know that. I just don't like it." He shoveled a forkful of casserole into his mouth and kept his eyes on his plate.

"I don't either, but I think it's more than that," she said boldly. He glanced at her questioningly and she went on. "Look… If you hadn't come to Angela's apartment the other night or even if you'd been five minutes later, Epps would still be dead. I would've shot him."

"I know that." _And I hate it_ , he thought miserably. She'd taken it badly when she'd shot Gil Lappin, and that was for him as well. Shooting Epps would've been for him too, since Epps had been targeting her friends and family. Brennan seemed to understand the words he hadn't said aloud, and she frowned at him.

"And you hate the thought of that," she surmised. His chewing halted for a moment in surprise at her quick and accurate assessment of his thoughts. She was better at reading him than she realized.

"Of course I do, Bones."

"Why?" she challenged. "Why are you sheltering me from that responsibility? It would've been part of my job as your partner, and I wouldn't have hesitated to pull the trigger if he'd come at me."

"I know that. I just don't think you should have had to," he replied, avoiding her eyes again. They ate in silence for a few moments before Brennan spoke.

"I need to be equal in this partnership, Booth. We're equals in our personal relationship, and I need that in our professional one too."

"Bones," he groaned. "Of course I think you're an equal-"

"That's not how you're treating me," she argued. "You seem to see me as someone who needs saving all the time, from one thing or another. I tolerate your protectiveness because I understand why you do it, but…I need you to trust that I can handle things like this."

"Is this about me not letting you shoot Epps, or is it about me not wanting you to go into the field without me?" Booth asked, growing more irritated with each second. His guilt had flared unpleasantly as well. He'd never meant to give her the impression that he didn't trust her or think of her as his equal.

"It's about both," she sighed, not wanting to fight. "Look… This case in Florida is a temporary thing. So show me that you trust me to handle it, and stop worrying so much. Whether it's about my physical safety or my emotional wellbeing, you're _always_ worrying about me, and it's really not necessary. I love that you care, but I don't want you to be stressed over it." Her tone was gentle, and she held his gaze with honesty and concern for him. Booth sighed with regret.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I never meant to make you feel like… like I don't think of you as an equal. That's not what I think at all." She nodded, and he continued, "I'll do whatever it takes to reassure you of that, okay? If that means letting you work a case without me until I can get cleared by this shrink, then that's what I'll do."

"I didn't mean to cause you more guilt, Booth. I don't think you even realized you were doing it because taking care of others is so ingrained in your personality. I just… I need to know that you have as much faith in me as I have in you."

"I do, baby."

They shared a soft, _genuine_ smile, and both of them felt the tension ease gradually as they finished their meals. Brennan washed the dishes quickly and found herself surrounded by his muscular arms after he'd finished tidying up. Booth nuzzled the side of her neck gently, closing his eyes to breathe her in before she turned in his arms. They got lost in one another's eyes for a few moments, and Brennan's hands glided over his chest and upward to meet behind his neck.

"I love you, Bones. So much."

"I love you too," she smiled, feeling more connected to him in that moment than she had in days. She leaned up slightly to press her lips to his, kissing him sweetly and enjoying the way his arms tightened around the small of her back.

The kiss deepened slowly, and she felt his tongue graze her bottom lip, seeking entry. Brennan welcomed his tongue greedily, teasing it with her own. It wasn't a fight for dominance but rather a dance between two partners who knew one another as well as they knew themselves. It didn't take long for their passions to get away from them, and Brennan was only slightly startled when he broke the kiss long enough to sweep her into his arms.

He carried her up the stairs to their bedroom, and they began to remove one another's clothing the instant her feet touched the floor. Within seconds, he had eased her onto the bed and covered her naked body with his own, savoring the exquisite feeling of her skin against his.

"Booth," she gasped. His mouth had found the throbbing pulse in her neck.

"What, baby? Tell me what you need," he whispered.

"Touch me," she pled.

"Where?"

"Anywhere. _Everywhere_ ," she groaned, torn between arousal and frustration at his insistence that she give him directions. He chuckled and followed her guidance, caressing every perfect inch of skin with maddening slowness. Each time his fingers drifted toward her center, he sent them on another path, ignoring the writhing of her hips as she tried to convey where she wanted him most.

"What's wrong, baby?" he teased. If she hadn't been so glad to see a true smile on his face, she'd have growled at him.

" _Please."_ She reached for his hand and brought it to her center, shuddering when he tested her wetness.

"Mmm… Was that what you wanted?" he asked, feigning innocence. She glared at him playfully and pulled his mouth back to hers as his fingers plunged into her heat. She whimpered against his lips. Booth worked her gradually toward her release, curling his fingers slightly within her and applying just the right amount of pressure to her clit. He triggered her orgasm as skillfully as if he had actually pressed a button, and she trembled in his arms as the waves overtook her.

When she recovered enough to focus her eyes once more, she gently pushed him onto his back. He expected her to straddle him and sink down onto his hardness, but she surprised him by bringing him to her mouth instead, moaning in her eagerness to taste him. Her tongue swept the underside of his rigid length half a dozen times before he finally groaned a plea of longing. He thought he heard her give a tiny huff of a laugh in the instant before she finally took him fully into her mouth, but at that point, his attention was solely focused on the pleasure she was giving him.

Booth was further along than he'd realized, and after only a few minutes, he was pulling her head away from him. She crawled up his body, and he seized her lips with desperation, flipping her onto her back once again and settling between her thighs.

"I need to be inside you, baby," he whispered, burying himself completely within her with one fluid stroke. She gasped silently, her jaw falling open as she lost herself to the incredible feeling of fullness. Booth set a steady rhythm, driving into her forcefully as she clung to him tightly.

"Open your eyes, Bones," he begged her. When she did, it took her a moment to focus her gaze on his handsome face. "You're so beautiful, baby." He kissed her sweetly, but their eyes stayed open, locked on one another as they raced to the precipice together.

"Booth," she whimpered.

"That's right. Come for me, Bones."

She didn't need telling twice. She shattered in his arms, struggling to keep her eyes open as he'd requested. They changed to a blue he'd only ever seen when he'd been inside her, and it was enough to drive him over the edge as well. He shouted her name as he erupted within her, flooding her and sending aftershocks of pleasure throughout her body.

"Oh my God," she moaned softly.

"Amen," he said promptly, and they laughed together. Booth rested his forehead against hers, kissing her slowly and deeply before easing out of her. He collapsed onto the bed beside her, and she immediately curled herself into his arms, allowing her fingers to dance appreciatively over his muscled chest and arms.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Way better than okay," he assured her. He hadn't realized how badly they'd needed to reconnect. "I love watching your eyes change color like that. It's incredible."

"So you've said," she smirked. He'd once spent a good twenty minutes trying to find the right name to describe the color her eyes turned when he was inside of her. He claimed that arousal changed them as well, but that was a different shade of blue entirely.

"Well, it's still true." He held her closer and kissed her once more, and they lay in sated silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. "I needed that, I guess. I needed _you_ ," he clarified. "I'm sorry if I've been shutting you out, baby."

"Don't worry about it. I understood your reasons," she smiled. "And I needed you too."

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 **Yes, Sully _will_ be making an appearance. I tried to keep him in character as much as possible. We also get to meet Gordon Gordon next chapter, and he was easier to write than I expected. Please review if you can, and the next chapter will be up on Friday! :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Happy Friday! Thanks for all of the great feedback in its many forms; it is greatly appreciated. As promised, in this chapter we meet Sully and GG. If you're a smut fan, don't let the first scene get you too excited. It's just a mild flirtation, the kind Brennan does so well. There will be smut next time around though, and it's a good one.**

 **Enjoy and don't forget to review if you can. :)**

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Chapter 25

Booth drove Brennan to the airport the next morning, maintaining a steady stream of conversation that had Brennan struggling not to roll her eyes or smart off. He'd gotten the name of the agent who had been assigned to her and was pleased that it was someone he'd crossed paths with in the past. More importantly, Booth knew that Agent Sullivan was competent at his job, and although Booth would have preferred to be on the case with Brennan, he trusted Sully to keep her safe. The only foreseeable complication would be Brennan's tendency to make things difficult.

"Sully's a great guy, and he's good at his job," Booth assured her, checking his mirror before he changed lanes.

"Alright, well… I'll do my best not to make him cry then."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"Well, in the year between our first two cases, the Bureau tried to assign a number of agents to work with me. At least two of them left my office looking distinctly misty-eyed," she shrugged. Booth snickered, running through the list of names in his head and wondering which two they'd been. Brennan smirked at him and said, "I'm glad _you_ don't intimidate."

"Me too," he agreed, pursing his lips. "Just don't, you know… run off on your own or anything. Is Florida one of the states you're allowed to hunt in?"

"No," she sighed, knowing what he was really asking. "I won't be able to carry a gun. My conceal and carry permits are only for DC, Maryland, and Virginia. And I let the hunting licenses lapse anyway when I became a vegetarian."

Booth relaxed visibly, and Brennan fought the urge to challenge him for lecturing _her_ on responsible gun ownership. Were it not for the mopey expression on his face, she wouldn't have held back, but something was clearly troubling him.

"I'll be okay, Booth. I promise to be careful," she said softly. He gave her a smile and squeezed her hand.

"I know you will, Bones. I trust you. I just… I hope this case can be closed quickly." Brennan studied him for another moment before realizing that this was about more than just her safety.

"Is this about Valentine's Day?" she asked. He shrugged apologetically, and she grinned at him. "You're a very sentimental man, Booth. But you really shouldn't worry about it. It's just a commercialized holiday, and you and I don't need a day set aside for romantic gestures. You make those gestures all the time, even if they're just simple things like making coffee or picking up dry cleaning…or the way you look after me, making sure I eat and sleep when we have a case. All of it is romantic in its own way, and even if it does drive me a little crazy, I always know that you do it because you love me."

"Thanks, Bones," he replied, kissing her fingertips. "I guess I was just looking forward to the _us_ time more than anything else, you know?"

"Oh… Well," she said, grinning deviously, "if you really want to celebrate _properly_ , we can always do so when I get back. Or perhaps if I'm there through the holiday, we could have phone sex when I get back to my hotel room."

Booth's eyes widened with surprise at her forwardness, and her smile shifted into the crooked flirtatious grin he loved.

"I'm surprised you even know what that is," Booth admitted.

"Well, I can't really take full credit," she confessed.

"Angela?"

"Yes."

"Well, still… it's a good idea." They shared another smile, and Booth steered the SUV toward the exit for Dulles.

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Brennan pulled her rented SUV to a stop a short distance away from a group of state and local police cars. Among the handful of men milling about the scene, one in particular stood out. His suit and sunglasses were very out of place considering they were in a swamp, and one of Booth's colloquialisms sprang to her mind immediately. His outfit 'screamed' FBI. As she got out of her vehicle and swung her bag over her shoulder, the man approached her with just a hint of a swagger.

"Dr. Brennan?"

"Agent Sully?" she replied as he fell into step beside her.

"Uh huh," he said vaguely. "Name's Eugene."

"Okay, Eugene," Brennan said in confusion. She was fairly certain Booth had given her a different name.

"No, not me. I'm Sully. Short for Sullivan."

"Well, then who's Eugene?" A local sheriff a few feet away answered her question.

"Right here." He shifted to the side to reveal a very large, very dead alligator. "Eugene's been king of this swamp for as long as I can remember. Broke my heart to have to shoot him."

"Is there an actual human victim?"

"Inside Eugene," Sully answered uncomfortably.

"He ate somebody?" Brennan asked, trying not to smirk at the agent's queasy expression. One of those agents she'd mentioned to Booth had actually vomited in the lab, and she wondered whether this 'Sully' could handle what promised to be a pretty nasty set of remains.

"Damn spring breakers think it's a real kick to come down here and drink beer with the big fella," the sheriff said disdainfully. "I just chased off a bunch of them, and there was Eugene in the middle of the swamp, gulping down someone's arm."

Sully asked if it could have been someone from the group of kids the man had chased off, but the sheriff explained that an alligator's eating habits probably meant that this person had been in the water for a few weeks before 'Eugene' got a hold of them.

"Okay," Sully shrugged. "Why don't you drag the rest of the swamp for additional remains. I'll check Fort Lauderdale Missing Persons. _You_ ," he pointed at Brennan, "start cutting."

"No," she replied simply. Sully removed his sunglasses to look her in the eye.

"Wh...Isn't that what you do?"

"Any potential remains are far too sensitive to be retrieved here," she explained.

"Okay. Well, where...where do you suggest?"

"My lab at the Jeffersonian."

"The whole gator?" he asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"I'll handle transport," she said blandly.

"You're gonna need a big crate," the sheriff chuckled.

"And a lot of ice," Brennan agreed. She pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket and slipped them on before squatting down next to the gator.

"Okie dokie, if you're doing this, then there's a boat for sale that I'd like to check out," Sully said with an easy smile.

"A _boat_? Booth helps."

"Cause Booth can't relax," he retorted. Brennan rolled her eyes, knowing better but saying nothing. Her memory flickered back to a particular morning last month when she'd discovered him cooking their breakfast without a stitch of clothing on. She'd snapped a picture in case he ever needed convincing of anything. Brennan returned her attention to the gator's mouth, spotting something out of place.

"There's something metal in here…" She pulled out a gold locket on a chain and held it up curiously. Both the sheriff and Agent Sullivan leaned toward her for a better look, and she pulled back testily. "Don't you have a boat to buy?"

The sheriff bit back a smile at the agent's chastised expression and noted that the man looked considerably more interested in the good looking doctor than he had been five minutes before. It took most of the day to drag the rest of the swamp and load up the gator for shipment, and Sully spent the majority of the time either on the phone or watching Brennan. They didn't exchange more than a few more words, but it was clear that he was intrigued by her. Or at least...it was clear to everyone other than Brennan.

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The gator was due to arrive at the lab the next day, and Brennan booked the first flight out the following morning. She called Booth once her plane had landed, passively watching for Sully as she made her way toward the exit and the line of empty cabs.

"Hey, Bones," he greeted her when he picked up the phone.

"Hey. I'm back and headed to the lab," she told him, pausing to give the cab driver the address of the Jeffersonian. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Bones. Don't worry; I meet with the shrink today. I'll get him to sign my form, and we'll be working the case together before you know it."

"Alright," she said hesitantly, deciding not to challenge his attitude. Brennan had hoped he would take it more seriously, but in the end, it had to be Booth's decision.

"Is Sully with you?"

"No, I left him at the airport," she smirked. Being able to fly first class had never left her feeling so smug. She found Sully's lack of focus and laid-back attitude more than a little irritating. "I assume that if he's half the agent you are, then he's perfectly capable of finding the Jeffersonian on his own." Booth shook his head at the smile in her voice, amused with her game-playing.

"Alright, hey just… take it easy on the guy, okay? Not everyone thinks as fast as you do."

"So I've been told," she chuckled. "You'll let me know how your appointment goes?"

"Of course. I love you, Bones."

"I love you too."

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When Brennan arrived at the lab, the rest of the team had started the necropsy and successfully removed a portion of the remains. Angela told her that Florida FBI had just sent them a list of missing persons.

"We'll need dental records," Brennan replied, bending to examine the decomposed foot they'd recovered. The beep of the security system alerted her to a newcomer, and she didn't need to glance over her shoulder to learn his identity.

"Sully!" Cam greeted him.

"Cam, look at you!" he grinned, nodding to the security guard who had given him access. "In charge of moonbase alpha here…"

"And you're still a G-man. What happened to that restaurant you were going to open? Or was it a petting zoo?"

"Well, I am keeping myself open for the perfect opportunity. I tried out a beautiful boat in Florida."

"But he made it back to shore," Brennan said quietly, her tone laced with disappointment. There was a beat of uncomfortable silence before Hodgins took over.

"Victim is female, in her late teens, eliminating three of your missing persons right there."

"So...cause of death?" Sully asked hopefully.

"For the gator, we have these .45 caliber slugs," Cam answered. "For the girl, so far we've got the gator."

"Okie doke, well um… I'm gonna go grab a slice," he said brightly, handing the missing persons folder to Brennan. "Give me a call when you get an ID." Brennan had opened the file and scanned the short list of names, and Sully hadn't reached the stairway before she spoke up.

"Her name's Judy Dowd."

"Shouldn't you at least look at the x-rays before deciding that?" he asked, torn between amusement and condescension. Unfortunately, the only thing Brennan noticed was the latter.

"Says right here that she had surgery to repair a cleft palette at age two." She pointed to the discoloration above the victim's front two teeth. "The bone graft is here. She was a freshman at Virginia State, reported missing three weeks ago."

Brennan removed a small photo of a sweet-looking young woman from the file and gazed at it sadly. Angela winced sympathetically and glanced at Sully, not surprised to see the impressed expression on his face. Although she had to admit that the intensity in his features as he studied Brennan's profile was a little unsettling.

 _Oh boy,_ Angela mused. _Booth's gonna love this. Good thing they took his gun..._

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Booth was slightly surprised that the address he'd been given for the FBI shrink was a residence rather than a stuffy office building. He found an older man working with a stack of bricks at the side of his house, and Booth approached him hesitantly.

"Dr. Wyatt?"

"Ah, Agent Booth," the man greeted him, standing up to shake his hand. "Yes. Gordon, Gordon Wyatt."

"Right. You're the shrink?" Booth asked skeptically, taking in the man's thick English accent as well as the fact that he was dressed a bit too nicely for outdoor chores.

"Uh, _shrink_ , yes. Meaning psychiatrist."

"That's great, Doc. How's about you just sign my piece of paper here, and I'll get back to work," Booth suggested with a lazy attempt at a charm smile.

"Uh certainly," Dr. Wyatt replied, accepting the sheet of paper from the agent and pulling out a pen. "Do you mind if I ask what exactly it was that you did?"

"Yeah, I shot a truck," Booth replied casually.

"Ah! Full of terrorists, no doubt? Or plutonium, or fleeing felons, was it?"

"No, it was an ice cream truck."

"Did you have a...a good reason for firing on it?" Wyatt asked, pausing in the act of signing the form.

"Yeah, the music… It was bothering me," Booth explained, as though it were a simple matter of logic. "There was a speaker in the clown's mouth."

"Ohhhh…."

"Yeah, I just pulled out my gun, you know…" he mimicked the aiming and shooting of his sidearm, "It was gone."

"So the FBI sent you to me because you shot a _clown_?"

"Not a real clown," Booth denied with a scowl.

"I suggest you cogitate on the underlying reasons you shot that clown while I make us some tea," Wyatt said genially, handing the form back and turning toward the house.

"What? Cogitate?" _Apparently FBI shrinks talk like squints,_ he grumbled inwardly. "Tea?"

True to his word, Wyatt returned to his 'garden' with a tea tray in his hands. He prepared his own cup and left the rest for Booth, and the agent watched his calculated movements in disbelief.

"You are _really_ English," he muttered.

"Oh, I don't know. I think I've assimilated quite well. Typical American house right down to the 'white picket fence.' Truck that's the, uh what is it…'the heartbeat of America.' But _tea_ , tea is uh, sacrosanct, thank you very much."

"Me, I'm a coffee drinker," Booth said quickly, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his release form again.

"You know, in effort to understand your culture better, I've been trying to embrace this very American practice of preparing meat in the garden."

"Barbecue," Booth supplied.

"Hmm," Wyatt grinned. "Delightful word, isn't it? _Barbecue_. I think it's from the Caribbean _bar-a-bi-cue_ , which means some sort of sacred fire pit. You know that the Latin word for hearth is 'focus?' Isn't that revealing? It's quite literally the focal point of every household. The hearth, the _heart_. Interesting."

Booth gazed at the man in consternation. This was the type of thing he typically tuned out, particularly when it was Brennan launching into long-winded explications of the many things she found 'interesting.' The psychiatrist was smirking at him as though he knew exactly how short Booth's patience was at that moment, which didn't help matters.

Booth tried again to get Wyatt to sign his form, but instead, the irritating man roped Booth into helping him lay bricks for his barbecue. He'd disappeared to get mortar ingredients before Booth could say much to argue with him. Booth did his best to control his temper with the situation, glaring at the stack of bricks as though they had called him a foul name. He glanced at his watch and groaned, knowing that Brennan was waiting for him to call and tell her that he'd be back to work with her. Booth thought back to the hesitant expression she'd worn when she had suggested that it might actually be a _good_ idea for him to talk to someone, and he felt suddenly guilty for his petulant attitude.

In typical form, he rolled his shoulders and clapped his hands together a few times before stepping in front of the brick pile. If 'Gordon, Gordon Wyatt' wanted a barbecue, then that's what he'd get. By the time the psychiatrist returned, Booth had gotten a reasonable amount of work done and was rewarded with a cheerful smile from the man.

"Oh splendid! So it was your father who taught you to read plans, was it?"

"Barking up the wrong tree, Doc. Dad and I were tight," Booth lied, avoiding Wyatt's gaze.

"No, it's just that earlier you said that you weren't used to drinking tea with men, which suggests to me that you're usually pretty rigid with your assignment of gender roles," Wyatt explained.

"What? No! My partner is a woman, okay? A _woman_ who needs my _help_." Booth shifted uncomfortably, hoping he'd be able to place that call to Brennan soon.

"Oh yes, of course. Dr. Brennan, isn't it? And I believe she is also your significant other, yes?"

"Yeah," Booth said quietly, and his impatience with the situation seemed to ebb slightly. _I owe it to her to try,_ he reminded himself.

"Is that complicated? Working alongside your significant other, I mean."

"No way. We were work partners before we got together, and our relationship has made our partnership stronger, okay? We're solid, no matter what kinds of shit life has thrown at us lately." He met Wyatt's eyes at last, hoping to convey to the man that his relationship with Brennan was not up for analysis.

"Hmm. And might I ask what sort of excrement you've been assaulted by recently?" Wyatt asked, seeming cautiously intrigued. Booth chewed his lip a little as he considered what was safe to reveal to this stranger. Wyatt worked for the FBI, and Max was a criminal. And even if the guy stood by his ethics, it didn't feel like his story to share.

"She was kidnapped. More than once," he admitted with quiet anger, turning his attention back to the barbecue plans.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Wyatt replied, and when Booth glanced at him again, he was fairly certain that Wyatt was genuine. "When you say more than once…?"

"Three times since we became partners." _It sounds even worse to say it out loud,_ Booth thought miserably. Wyatt's next words made Booth realized that his guilt must've been plain on his face, and he attempted to school his expression immediately.

"And you blame yourself for this, yes?"

"No," Booth said firmly. "I wasn't the one who hurt her. That was the Gravedigger. And Kenton, and her ex. I certainly didn't…" Booth trailed off, unsure of his words. He may not have been the one to hurt Brennan, but he sure as hell felt like the one responsible for others having the opportunity to do so.

"No, of course not," Wyatt said soothingly. "I _do_ look forward to hearing more about all of this, but I'm afraid we're out of time for today. Tomorrow alright for you?"

Booth clenched his jaw and bit back a sarcastic retort, allowing Wyatt to show him out.

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He called Brennan as soon as he'd reached his SUV, and she picked up on the second ring.

"Brennan."

"Hey, Bones, how's it going?" he asked. Brennan frowned at the tension in his voice.

"Things are progressing, but first… How did your appointment go?"

"Ah, you know shrinks. They wanna pick everything apart and take way too long to do it."

"So he didn't just sign your form?" Brennan concluded, not at all surprised.

"No, I have to go back tomorrow. What's going on with the case?"

Brennan gave him a rundown of what they'd learned so far, which wasn't much. Judy Dowd had been on a spring break trip with her friend and the two had apparently spent their time drinking their way through Fort Lauderdale. They had both ended up on a website devoted to naked college girls, and the forensic evidence led them to believe that she'd been raped before her death. Evidence as well as the website had also led them to a man named Monte Gold, who ran the site as well as a traveling tour bus which stalked popular clubs up and down the east coast. Sully was trying to track him down so that they could talk to him.

"Everything going alright with Sully then?" Booth asked, hearing the undertone of frustration in her voice when she said his name.

"I guess. It's only temporary, right?"

"Yeah," he agreed, feeling guilty once more that he wasn't with her. "Look, I have to go back to the Hoover, but I'll check in with you later, okay?" He refrained from asking if she'd eaten lunch, sensing that her temper was only slightly more stable than his own today.

"Alright. I'll let you know what time I'll be home. I love you."

"Love you too, Bones." Booth ended the call with a sigh and punched the power button on the radio, hoping for a distraction. He couldn't help but smirk inwardly at Brennan's irritation with Sully.

 _At least he hasn't cried yet_ , he mused.

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As luck would have it, Monte Gold's tour bus had worked its way up the coast in the weeks since the victim's death, and Sully had been able to locate him at a local dance club. Brennan insisted upon going with him to talk to the man, and Sully wisely opted not to argue. His skepticism still showed in his features, however, and Brennan rolled her eyes at his attitude. It wasn't the first or even the hundredth time she'd encountered an agent who expected the 'squint' to stay in the lab.

She texted Booth to let him know that she would be heading home once she and Sully had completed their interviews, and he replied with a simple 'Be careful.' Brennan smiled at the screen and shook her head slightly, amused that Booth just couldn't seem to turn off his protective instincts. She tucked her phone back into her pocket and got out of her car, spotting Sully waiting for her on the sidewalk.

Monte Gold wasn't hard to find. Although the establishment was advertised as merely a dance club, the interior had the distinct feel of a strip club. Scantily clad women danced on a stage and gathered in clusters around the large room. The biggest cluster, of course, was surrounding Monte Gold, whom Brennan would have been able to identify by his distinctive bone structure even without the entourage of half-naked women.

"Monte Gold?" Sully asked, flashing his badge and grimacing in disgust.

"Uh oh, grownups with badges. Lloyd?" Gold's summons prompted the appearance of a younger man who greeted them politely.

"Hi. I'm Monte's producer, Lloyd. We've got shooting permits and signed waivers."

"You know this girl?" Sully asked, holding up a photo of the victim standing next to Gold.

"She's on your website," Brennan added with a scowl.

"Yeah, and a thousand more like her. Might as well ask a Chinese man to remember a grain of rice," Gold smirked.

"She's not a grain of rice, sport," Sully replied irritably.

"She's dead," Brennan told them.

Gold was silent for a moment before shouting at someone named Eddie to turn the cameras off. He shooed away his entourage and told Lloyd to get the girl's picture removed from his website. Brennan followed Lloyd back to his tour bus, and she watched over Lloyd's shoulder as he located and removed every picture of Judy Dowd. Gold appeared inside the doorway a moment later.

"Idiot!" he shouted at Lloyd. "You let her on my bus?"

"I didn't want to be rude, Monte."

"Off the bus," he ordered her. "Your boyfriend has no warrant." Ignoring the disgusting man's assumption as well as his assertive body language, Brennan stepped closer and stared him down with a snarky grin on her face.

"You know, anthropologically speaking, you follow a very ancient stereotype."

"Okay," Gold replied blandly. "Entrepreneur?"

"Pimp," she corrected. Gold rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Class is over. Off the bus."

Brennan chuckled under her breath but did as he asked, and a half-second after her feet touched the pavement outside, she heard a man's voice addressing her from a short distance away.

"Oh, oh there it is! Another misguided waif tumbles from the devil's sin-mobile."

"Excuse me?" she asked, taking in the appearance of the stranger. He seemed very out of place.

"Uh...no, she's with me," Sully told him, stepping toward her with a wink.

"Why are you winking? I'm not with…" Brennan was flustered. "He's with _me._ " If they had been alone, she would've made very clear to the agent that the only reason he was on this case was because _she_ was on the case.

"This is Isaac," Sully introduced him. "Isaac is with the Church of High Calling, way down in Eldon, Kansas."

"Yeah, well let me tell you something," Isaac spoke up. "There is no distance too great to dissuade these lost young women from the grips of Monte Gold's carnal temptation."

Brennan glanced at the man's truck, which was parked nearby, and she strolled toward it, peeking through the window at the interior. Miniature statues of Christ were suctioned to the dash, a handful of Bibles and flyers littered the seat, and the gearshift was adorned with a tennis ball.

"Looks like you planned on saving a lot of souls," Brennan said sarcastically.

"Women like this?" Sully asked Isaac, showing him Judy's picture.

Isaac didn't say one way or another whether he knew or had seen Judy, instead choosing to deflect the implication of blame onto Gold. The man in question disembarked his tour bus at that exact moment and was immediately approached by a young man asking for a job. Unfortunately, Isaac chose that moment to run his mouth again, and the young man pushed him forcefully into the grill of his truck. Gold instructed his crew to get rid of the man and knelt in front of Isaac, who had not yet recovered from the impact.

"Has God even fed you today, Isaac?" he asked. When Isaac didn't answer, Gold helped him up and said, "Okay, let's get you a sandwich. Eddie, make the preacher some food, would you?" Gold turned back to Brennan and Sully, noting their looks of surprise. "The wingnuts come with the territory. Alright, let's stop playing games. What is it you want to know?"

Gold claimed once again not to remember Judy, insinuating that he rarely, if ever, had sex with any of the girls who surrounded him constantly. On the other hand, his crew members did belatedly recall seeing Judy making out with a bouncer at the club that evening. They handed Judy's signed waiver to Sully and boarded the tour bus.

"This waiver is a joke," Brennan said, taking a closer look at the paper. "Look at Judy's signature. She could barely hold a pen."

"Yeah," Sully grimaced. "I'll have the Florida Bureau pick up the bouncer and question him." They watched the bus pull away from the curb, and Brennan shook her head in disgust.

"We need to get back on that bus."

"No, we need cause for a warrant," he countered.

Brennan sighed and told him that she would let him know if the lab was able to turn up anything new. She checked her phone as she walked toward her car, leaving Sully on the pavement staring after her. Cam had sent her a photo from Gold's website which gave them probable cause for a warrant. Flakes of gold had been found in the wounds around Judy's stomach, and Angela had recalled a certain type of liquor that contained actual gold. The photo Cam had sent depicted a group of girls surrounding Monte and holding shot glasses of the drink.

Brennan quickly forwarded the picture to Sully as she started her car, not wanting to talk to the man again if she could help it. She was pleased when he only texted his reply that he would get a warrant for the bus. With that settled, Brennan speed-dialed Booth, hoping the rest of his day had been better than hers.

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Booth had returned to Dr. Wyatt's home with new determination. He had reluctantly agreed with Brennan that it made more sense to celebrate Valentine's Day after she and Sully had closed their case, though that hadn't stopped him from picking up a bouquet of flowers on his way home earlier. However, what he really wanted to give her was the news that they could work together again, and it was with that in mind that he had knocked on Wyatt's door.

"Hi," Booth greeted him when he answered the door. Wyatt's brow was furrowed in confusion.

"Do we have a scheduled...?"

"No, listen… I really need to get back to work, so why don't you give me one of those clown restraining orders and sign my paper," Booth replied. In spite of his sarcastic words, he did try to keep his frustration from bleeding into his tone.

"Have you had an insight, then, as to why you shot at that clown?" Wyatt asked, still frowning. Booth's phone rang from within his pocket, and Booth held it up, pointing to the display.

"Yeah, you know what, I have some insight. It's right here; it's my Bones calling, my partner." Wyatt smiled and shut the door as Booth answered his Brennan's call. Booth paced across the flagstone walkway. "Bones?"

"I'm on my way home," she told him with a sigh.

"Great, yeah… You don't sound happy about that though," Booth observed.

"Oh no, I very much want to go home. It's just been a long day."

"What, aren't you playing nice with Sully?"

"I'm just not sure how serious he is about his job," she explained, glaring at the barely moving traffic in front of her. Sully had voiced the desire to have at least four different jobs rather than be an FBI Agent, and his flakiness had worn greatly on her nerves.

"Well, look, he's one of the best, alright? He just likes to keep his options open."

"I've noticed," she said wryly.

"Listen, Bones… Sully lost his partner about a year ago. When something like that happens, you hear that clock on the inside ticking just a little bit louder, you know?" Brennan didn't have an answer, feeling sympathy for Sully's loss but still not quite able to identify with his flighty outlook on life.

Wyatt joined Booth outside, and Booth said his goodbyes to Brennan, promising that he would be home shortly.

"Alright, so maybe I am a little irritable," Booth admitted, handing Wyatt the release form. Wyatt smiled pleasantly and leaned against the patio table.

"Why do you think that might be?"

"Don't they give you papers and files and...reports?" Booth asked. Wyatt merely looked back at him expectantly. "Alright, Bones and I caught up to this serial killer named Howard Epps, and he died."

"And whose fault was that? Yours or your partner's?"

"No, no, he jumped over that balcony on his own."

"And where were you when Mr. Epps fell?" Wyatt prompted him.

"Holding his arm."

"No, that was before he fell, surely."

"What?"

"Well, Mr. Epps was dangling from your arm before he fell, at which point he was no longer dangling but falling. Attached to you, he was alive. No longer attached, dead."

"Well I don't feel _guilty_ about that," Booth sneered. "I mean, Epps was a serial killer. He tried to kill my partner and threatened my son. I'm not sorry he's dead."

"Yes, of course." Wyatt gazed at Booth a moment longer, and the agent shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. "Well, we'll pick up on this next time," Wyatt said pleasantly. He retreated back into his house without another word, and Booth sighed in frustration.

As he drove home, Booth did his best to will the tension out of his muscular frame. He knew that talking about Epps was necessary, but at the moment, his feelings toward psychology were pretty much in line with Brennan's. He knew that he owed it to Brennan to try to talk to Wyatt, but he was finding it much more easily said than done. The words just didn't seem to want to come out of his mouth, and when they did, they sounded all wrong.

When he pulled into the garage, he was pleased to see that he'd gotten home first, though he knew Brennan couldn't be far behind. Once inside, he removed the dinner he'd made them from the refrigerator and put it in the oven to reheat. Booth set the table with their usual dinnerware but added a few candles and lowered the lights. His thoughts flickered back to his truncated conversation with Wyatt, and Booth sighed, feeling disappointed in himself.

He wasn't giving up. He owed her.

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"Booth," she gasped in surprise, taking in the candlelight and the smell of their dinner. A vase of daffodils sat in the middle of the table, and Brennan smiled, trying to remember when they'd ever discussed her favorite flowers. "I thought-"

"Yeah, I know, Valentine's Day is a commercial holiday and all that stuff… And we can go out this weekend or something, but I couldn't let it pass without doing _some_ thing. Case or no case," he told her, grinning at her affectionately. The tension he'd been trying to shrug off melted away at the sight of her, and he felt even better when her arms wound themselves around his neck.

"I didn't mean that you were silly to want to celebrate it," she assured him with a gentle smile. "Just that I wouldn't be upset if we weren't able to. We were on a case last year too, remember? As busy as we are, there's a good chance of work interrupting just about every holiday."

"Yeah, but I want to make the time, Bones. Always." She smiled and kissed him sweetly.

"Me too. Thank you."

They discussed the events of the day as they ate, and Brennan was unsurprisingly supportive of Booth, despite his lack of progress.

"You don't need to rush it, Booth," she assured him. "Talking about things like that is difficult. Especially to a stranger."

"I did talk about it a little, but… I don't know what the guy needs to hear in order to reinstate me, you know? I'm starting to see why you hate psychology," he admitted. She smiled sadly.

"Therapeutic techniques didn't really work for me, but that doesn't mean they won't work for you. I just don't think the field of study should be classified as a _science_ ," she added under her breath.

"When did you ever talk to a shrink?"

"After a couple of incidents when I was in the system," she shrugged. "I mostly refused to talk. I just...didn't see the point, I guess. No matter what I said, they were going to put me in another home, so why bother? But this is different, Booth. You have something to gain from talking to Dr. Wyatt."

Booth nodded, not wanting to think too much about her past. Doing so usually only managed to piss him off, and he needed a break from the angst of the last few days. They finished their meal and cleared away the mess, and Brennan curled up next to him on the couch as he turned on Sports Center.

They had used his Flyers passes once the previous month, and although Brennan hadn't completely followed the game, she'd put in a good effort toward learning the rules. When Booth had caught up on sports news, he glanced down at Brennan and smiled. She had tucked herself beneath his arm and fallen asleep against his chest, and the sight made his chest ache with love.

Brennan had never been anything but supportive of him, no matter what he'd gone through, and he knew that she was the reason he would overcome this most recent obstacle as well. In the days following Epps' death, the thought had crossed his mind that Brennan might well be safer if they weren't partners, and admitting to Wyatt that her kidnappings had happened on his watch had been difficult.

Booth had dismissed the thought almost as soon as it had come, however, reminding himself that Brennan would manage to find danger whether she was in the field with him or not. She had certainly been in her fair share of scrapes before they'd even met, and the idea of her in the field with a different agent troubled him. He couldn't stand the thought that she might be hurt because he wasn't there to protect her. It was simply more motivation to try again with Wyatt the next day.

Booth kissed the top of her head and switched off the TV. The sudden silence caused her to stir against his chest, and her eyes blinked open slowly.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't be. Let's go to bed." He kissed her forehead again and helped her up from the couch, holding her hand as they climbed the stairs. Booth expected her to fall back asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow, but she surprised him. What he thought was a goodnight kiss quickly escalated to something else entirely, and they made love slowly, savoring every touch.

When at last she drifted to sleep, she was snuggled against his chest once more, and Booth welcomed the feeling of peace that always came with having her in his arms.

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 **Next chapter's a fun one, or at least I think so. Review if you have time, and I'll be back on Sunday. :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Hello my lovely readers! I'm posting this at 5 a.m. and haven't been to sleep yet. Insomnia=Evil. This chapter will be satisfying on multiple levels I think. Please review to let me know what you thought. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 26

Booth headed to Dr. Wyatt's home again the following day while Brennan met up with Sully to perform a search of Monte Gold's tour bus. The bouncer that Gold's crew had referred them to turned out to have a clean alibi. Gold was unsurprisingly angry to see Brennan and Sully again, and he wasted no time making his opinions clear. In the midst of a tirade against what he saw as Brennan's feminist agenda, Gold got way too close and found himself quickly subdued by the anthropologist.

"It was self-defense," she told Sully. "He assaulted me."

"Yes, he did," Sully agreed with a grin. Once Brennan released Gold, he threatened to call his lawyer but Sully merely handed him the warrant.

The refrigerator on the tour bus was stocked with quite a bit of alcohol, and among the collection was the gold-embellished liquor. Brennan pointed it out to Sully, and he asked if she could prove that Judy Dowd had drank it on the bus.

"I can try," Brennan smirked, liking the idea of a challenge.

"Okay, you can only admit evidence that's in plain view," Sully reminded her. "Although on this bus, that can be DNA on virtually...any surface." He cringed in disgust after thoughtlessly touching a countertop.

"That's an image. Keep your eyes open for a metal screw threaded thingy."

"A what now?"

"Judy's stab wound was probably from a bolt of some kind right through here," she explained, poking Sully gently in the middle of his upper back.

"So just inside her scapula," Sully concluded.

"Yes," Brennan answered in surprise. "Most laymen refer to it as a shoulder blade."

"Well, I minored in kinesiology. Although, this is the first time I've used it to impress a lady," he told her with a boyish grin. Brennan laughed but completely missed his suggestive tone.

"What was your major?"

"Art History. I also got a master's certificate in sailing, a pilot's license, and I'm a certified EMT. There's more, but I don't want to brag…" Brennan's brow furrowed, wondering if he was joking, but before she could ask, Hodgins called her cell to report his latest findings.

Judy Dowd had apparently not been killed in the swamp where she'd been found. She'd most likely been killed roughly two miles from Eugene's swamp, and some asphalt found in her shoe gave them a more precise location. She thanked Hodgins and ended the call before stepping off the bus to speak to Gold's crew member, Eddie.

After a bit of calculated intimidation on Sully's part, Eddie admitted that Judy had been on their bus that night as they made their way across the state of Florida from Fort Lauderdale to Daytona. Their route had taken them right through 'Alligator Alley,' and Eddie explained that Gold had ordered him to pull over and let Judy off the bus. She'd been drunk and crying inconsolably.

While Brennan and Sully had been checking out the tour bus, Gold had left for a meeting at the Iguana Club in Maryland, and they decided to follow him there in the hopes of catching him somewhat off guard. Unfortunately, when they did track him down, it was a scene they hadn't expected. Gold had been shot in the abdomen and had bled out on the pavement outside of the club.

Sully had Isaac brought in for questioning in regards to Gold's murder, but a phone call from Angela turned them onto the right suspect. Judy Dowd's father had apparently followed Angela from the lab to the diner and had questioned her about the case. Although Angela had revealed nothing explicitly, she felt that it was likely the man had drawn conclusions from her silence or facial expressions. When Mr. Dowd was confronted about the murder, he admitted to it outright. He claimed to have only intended to scare Gold, but the philanderer had mouthed off about Judy, which had prompted Mr. Dowd to shoot him in the heat of the moment.

It was Hodgins who led them to the biggest break in the case, surmising that Judy Down had been impaled rather than stabbed. Combined with the indications that the weapon had been threaded like a screw on its end, the evidence pointed to Isaac as the most likely killer. Brennan recalled having seen a tennis ball over the end of his gear shifter when she'd peered into his truck.

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Booth got to work on Dr. Wyatt's barbecue almost as soon as he arrived, and Wyatt thanked him by offering him a cup of coffee as opposed to the tea the Englishman usually favored. Booth sipped it gratefully but quickly wished he hadn't, and he was fairly certain that his five-year-old could have done better. He opted to keep that particular opinion to himself, however.

"You tend to do things well, don't you?" Wyatt observed thoughtfully. "Make coffee, build barbecue machines-"

"It's not really a machine," Booth argued blandly.

"-Solve crimes, raise a son, love women… Whatever you aim at, you hit."

"Is that bad?"

"By no means, no of course not… _except_ -"

"Ohh, okay. Here we go. Let me have it, Doc," Booth said. Although his tone was sarcastic, he was pleased that they might be getting somewhere in their talks.

"Except it is indicative of a need to _control_ your environment."

"Again, I ask… Is that bad?"

"No! Of course not, no... _except_ -"

"Except…?"

"Except when you shoot a clown," Wyatt said evenly.

"You know, you make it sound like it was walking around making balloon animals," Booth scowled. Wyatt grinned and gave a little shrug.

"For the most part, your rebellions are small."

"Rebellions?"

"The colorful socks, the funky belt buckle…" Wyatt explained. Booth's expression cleared in comprehension; he'd heard this before. "They're a mechanism, quiet rebellions. A way of asserting your personal control over a homogenizing organization like the FBI. But shooting a clown is _not_ a quiet rebellion. Shooting a clown is quite literally deafening."

"Yeah, I know," Booth explained with a grin. "I'm a 'free-thinking rebel' working within a 'para-militaristic organization' that 'constrains individuality.'"

"Dr. Brennan told you that, I presume?" Wyatt asked, encouraged by the genuine smile on the agent's face.

"Yeah, when we first met. Although I didn't really start the crazy socks and ties and all that until a little later."

"Just out of curiosity, might I ask what Dr. Brennan thinks about this Howard Epps business?"

"She thinks it was an accident. Or maybe even that it could be considered a suicide," Booth admitted warily, his own doubt seeping into every word.

"And she isn't the only one to hold that opinion, correct? According to the FBI reports, there was _no way_ you could have saved Epps' life. According to all witnesses, you have _nothing_ to feel guilty about."

"Yeah… So?"

" _So_ why, in a fit of pique, did you you endanger innocent people in a public thoroughfare by discharging your firearm?"

"I'm a good shot," Booth argued, shaking his head. "I didn't put anybody in danger."

"Your file shows you were a military sniper," Wyatt stated. "How many people have you killed?"

"I lost count," Booth mumbled.

"Oh, you ran remember precisely how many bricks you used to assemble that barbecue, but you don't know how many _lives_ you've taken?"

"Epps makes fifty."

"Fifty what?"

"Fifty kills," Booth said tersely. The number had bothered him, but not nearly so much as he'd been troubled by his own response to Epps' death.

"But Agent Booth, you _didn't kill_ Epps. You tried to _save_ him, remember? Or perhaps I could put it better as a question. Did Howard Epps slip from your grasp, or did you release him?" Wyatt asked gently. Booth thought back to the moment his hand had no longer been attached to Epps, and he struggled to determine which of Wyatt's scenarios fit best. "Oh, come now man, it's a simple enough question. Was he indeed your fiftieth kill? Or did you just happen to be there when he died?" Booth ran the sequence of events in his mind again and felt sick with his confusion.

"I don't know," he said finally.

"A man like you, in control of every situation, and you _don't know_?"

"I don't know," Booth repeated, shaking his head again. "I had him, and then I lost him. And something happened in between… I don't know." Wyatt regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before replying.

"I believe you. Because for a man like you to admit that you don't know, to relinquish control… that could indeed argue a disruption in your self-view that was large enough to motivate you to shoot a clown," he concluded with a tiny smile. Wyatt pulled the release form toward him and signed it quickly. "You know, I think we've made marvelous progress. This is an end where we can certainly begin."

Booth left with the understanding that his therapy would continue but that he would at least be able to return to work. He dropped off his release form to Cullen, who in turn handed over Booth's firearm. The agent endured his boss's teasing remarks goodnaturedly and headed back to his office. He texted Brennan the news of his reinstatement, and she replied promptly with her congratulations.

Apparently she and Sully were headed out of the city to interrogate a suspect that the state police had intercepted.

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The sun had set by the time Brennan and Sully reached the empty stretch of highway where a state cop had pulled over and detained Isaac Horn. The patrolman was shining his flashlight onto the back bumper of Isaac's truck, and when Brennan and Sully rounded the vehicle, they spotted the 'preacher' kneeling at the tailgate as if in prayer.

"Don't let us interrupt you, Isaac," Sully sneered.

"I'm just praying for His guidance in putting an end to this harassment."

"Well, He can't answer them all, can He?" Sully hauled the man to his feet, and Brennan was pleased to note that Sully's grip was none-too-gentle. She asked Isaac where he'd been headed, and he claimed to be heading home.

"Back to your church, huh?" Sully asked. "I gotta tell you, I wish I had called them a little sooner about you."

"You did this? You called them?" Isaac asked scathingly.

"You sure you weren't headed back to Florida? Stop along Alligator Alley...make sure you left nothing behind?" Brennan asked.

"No, I don't even know what you're talking about," Isaac said calmly. Even Brennan could tell the man was lying, and she rolled her eyes at Sully, walking to the driver's side door as Sully addressed Isaac again.

"Well _apparently_ your churched kicked _your_ hypocritical ass out last year. Something about you hitting on young female parishioners."

Isaac denied the allegation and shouted at Brennan not to enter his truck. She ignored him and leaned inside, pulling the yellow ball into the air to show Sully.

"Tennis ball for a gear shifter," she announced. Sully roughly pushed the man to the passenger side of the vehicle and slammed him against the aging metal. Brennan pursed her lips in satisfaction at Isaac's grunt of pain. She tested the exposed rod of the gear shifter for blood, and the evidence lit up promptly under her blacklight. Brennan nodded to Sully in confirmation, and he flipped the preacher face-first against the truck before snapping a set of cuffs on him.

"Forgive them Lord, for they know not what they do," Isaac lamented.

"Yeah? Well what we _do_ know is that Judy Dowd was left drunk and stumbling on Route 75," Sully said angrily.

"And you, following Monte's bus, pulled over to give her a ride."

"Not a free one, apparently," Sully added. Isaac attempted to deny it again, but Brennan steamrolled over his words.

"Oh, so this isn't her blood? This is _someone's_ blood."

"How many of Monte's castoffs have you been with Isaac?" Sully asked, eyeing him with disgust when the man shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Girls too drunk to know… before you picked up Judy?"

"You went for it, she rejected you… Next thing you knew, she's impaled on the shifter."

"I may have picked her up," Isaac admitted, turning again to speak to Brennan, "but if I laid a hand on her it was to _heal_ and ask His redemption upon her."

Brennan shook her head in disbelief, and Sully yanked Isaac back to face him, pushing him against the vehicle once again.

"Oh man, you are _shameless_ ," Sully growled.

"She was drunk. She went crazy, pushed me away, and fell back. It was an accident; it was the devil's work."

"No. No, that was the part where you _fed her_ to an alligator," Brennan said disgustedly.

She watched approvingly as Sully took Isaac away, leading and dragging him in equal measure until he could stuff him into the back of the patrol car. Sully asked the cop if he wouldn't mind handling the transport since he and Brennan had arrived in a vehicle not equipped for the job. The policeman agreed immediately, and they met back at the Hoover building.

Brennan and Sully watched Isaac through the observation window as he was questioned further. The preacher had forfeited his right to an attorney but wasn't being particularly forthcoming with the truth. Brennan sighed and shook her head, feeling exhausted.

"So what do you and Booth usually do now?" Sully asked with a grin. "Is there a bar you go to? A restaurant, pilates class?" Brennan laughed easily at the image of Booth taking part in a pilates class and turned her eyes away from the window.

"There's a diner," she admitted. "Booth says the pie is the best. You should try it, but I need to get home."

"Sure I can't buy you a slice?" he offered hopefully.

"No, thanks… I don't care for pie actually," she said politely. Sully tried not to look too disappointed but decided to press his luck in spite of her refusal.

"I guess...we're not working together anymore."

"Yes," Brennan replied, not sure of his implication.

"And since we have no professional obligations to each other… I could ask you out. Theoretically," Sully added, looking nervous. Brennan's brows lifted in surprise, and she smiled awkwardly, flattered but not at all interested.

"You could ask...theoretically. But I would have to decline. I'm not single."

"Oh…" Sully glanced at her left hand quickly. "Is it serious?"

"Very," she said confidently.

"Okay, well… Hey, can't blame a guy for asking, right?"

"Sure," she chuckled. Brennan's gaze flickered back to the observation window once more before bidding Sully a good evening, and she felt the agent's eyes on her back as she made her way to the elevator. Or at least she _hoped_ he was looking at her back…

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As she headed home, Brennan replayed the conversation in her mind again, wondering if she should have clarified that her significant other was also her partner. Booth's seeming good rapport with Sully as well as Sully's obvious disappointment was what had held her tongue. Their last day on the case had gone better than the preceding days, and Brennan did actually agree with Booth that Sully was a good guy. She hadn't wanted to make him even more uncomfortable or embarrassed.

When she pulled into the garage, she was pleased to find that Booth was already home. She had picked up takeout on the way, and he greeted her at the door with a kiss before relieving her of the bags.

"So everything's all back to normal?" she asked. "As far as work goes anyway?"

"Yup," he replied happily. "Next case, I am all yours." Brennan smiled over her container of pad thai and watched his expression for a moment, gauging his mood. She was about to bring up her conversation with Sully when Booth spoke again. "I do have to continue therapy though. Just for a little while."

"That's understandable. What made Dr. Wyatt change his mind about your reinstatement?"

"He says I have issues with control… I guess that's probably the best way to summarize it. He did mention my 'quiet rebellions' though," Booth grinned. "I thought of you."

"He was referring to your socks?" Brennan asked, slightly surprised that Wyatt had inferred the connection between Booth's unique wardrobe choices and his current emotional struggles.

"Yeah, among other things," Booth shrugged. "To be honest, I'm still kind of working out the details in my head on that one, but I guess I get it." Brennan was silent and thoughtful for a moment before she spoke again.

"Booth… do you remember what you said to me during the Dylan Crane case?"

"I'm sure I said a lot of things…" he trailed off in confusion.

"You told me that kids in the system tend to 'carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.' That they can be hard on themselves, carry a lot of mistaken guilt… grow up to have control issues," she reminded him gently.

"Yeah, but I wasn't in the system," he argued weakly.

"No, but your childhood was no less traumatic. And you have those same tendencies, Booth. You take on too much responsibility, especially when bad things happen. You feel guilty over things you shouldn't."

Booth sighed and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. He knew that she was right, but he hadn't really thought of it that way before. Now that she's said it out loud though, it certainly made sense. He and 'Gordon-Gordon' hadn't talked about his childhood, but Booth was fairly certain that the subject would come up sooner or later.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Boot admitted. "I didn't think of it like that, but it makes sense." Brennan's silver-blue eyes held his for several long moments, and eventually their lips curved into identical smiles. "I love you, Bones."

"I love you too. Have you… Have you stopped beating yourself up about Epps' death?" She was hesitant to bring Epps' name into the conversation, but she felt compelled to ask. Booth shrugged noncommittally.

"It wasn't that I felt guilty over his death," he explained cautiously. "I feel guilty for my response to it."

"I don't know what that means," she frowned, noting his switch to present tense with the word 'feel.'

"I mean that I should've… I should've felt remorse over his death, right? It's the natural human response to something like that. But instead I felt _relief_. Whether it was an accident or not, what kind of person does that make me?" Booth's eyes shimmered slightly with suppressed emotion, and Brennan immediately discarded her food to reach for his hand.

"Booth… No. Look, I felt that way too," she told him earnestly. "I was relieved that it was over, that he was dead, that he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone ever again… Does that make _me_ a bad person?"

"Of course not," Booth denied quickly.

"Well, there you have it. Why are you applying logic to my feelings but not to your own?"

Booth was silent as he contemplated her reasoning, but eventually he nodded, squeezing her hand gently and gazing at her. Her eyes shone back at him with nothing but honesty and love, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by a sensation of peace. _She's right_ , he conceded inwardly. Brennan watched his thoughts play across his features and smiled when she saw the tension ease away. He kissed her again for several long minutes before they turned their attention back to their meal.

They swapped takeout containers and continued to eat for a few moments before Brennan spoke again, feeling it safe to change the subject.

"So… You were right about Sully. He's a good agent."

"What finally convinced you?" Booth asked curiously, as pleased as he ever was any time some variation of the words 'You're right' came out of her mouth.

"The murderer turned out to be the preacher guy, and Sully was rather rough with him during his arrest. It was satisfying to watch," Brennan explained, sucking in a breath of courage before she continued. "It almost made me feel sorry for embarrassing him later."

"What do you mean?"

"He asked me out," she replied, keeping her eyes trained on her food. "He looked pretty embarrassed when I said I wasn't single. Or at least I _think_ it was embarrassment," she frowned. "I really don't read people very well, other than you of course."

"What did he say?" Booth asked, trying to keep his tone even. He trusted Brennan, but he would never be pleased to hear something like this.

"He asked if it was serious," she continued, finally raising her eyes to Booth's. "I said that it was _very_ serious. And then I left." Booth grinned at the thought of her acknowledging the strength of their commitment to a guy who had wanted her attention, and his good mood returned in full force.

"Well, you know, I can't really blame the guy," he said, flashing his charm smile at her. "After all, it was the first thing on _my_ mind when I first met you too."

They had finished their meal and sat back on the couch, and Booth quickly pulled her onto his lap. She straddled his thighs, and his hands immediately gravitated to her ass.

"Is that so?" she asked with a smirk.

"Oh yeah. Especially if he got to watch you examining evidence… bending over that table in your little labcoat," he pressed a kiss to her cheek before moving his lips slowing along her jaw to her ear as he continued. "Or maybe running that smart mouth of yours with a suspect… Putting your black belts to good use…"

Brennan closed her eyes as he moved his hands beneath her shirt, and the air whooshed out of her lungs in response to his touch. She struggled to form a coherent response as his fingers danced slowly toward the clasp of her bra.

"He did get to see _all_ of those things, actually… But I… I didn't notice that he was watching me that way."

"Oh trust me," Booth chuckled against her skin. "He was watching."

Booth pinched the clasp on her bra and separated the clips, and he lifted both the bra and her shirt over her head. He groaned, fastening his lips to the hollow of her neck as her hips rolled instinctively. She felt his arousal against her own sex, and a flood of warmth raced to her center. Brennan gasped and clung to his shoulders when his mouth found the hardened peak of her breast. He gave it a long, hard pull before lifting his head to speak again.

"I don't think I'd ever been that turned on in the presence of human remains," he admitted sheepishly, trailing kisses over the flawless expanse of her chest. "I almost felt guilty about it… seemed so inappropriate."

"Almost?" she asked, threading her fingers into his hair.

"Yeah, well, that was just until you mentioned wanting to ask me out," he said, quirking his brow provocatively. She let out a breathy sort of laugh that seemed to connect directly to his groin.

Booth's need rose to a near desperate level, and he shifted her away from him only long enough to remove the rest of their clothing. When she was settled back on his lap, his hardness rested directly against her molten core. One small movement, and he would be inside of her, but he felt her clit brushing against the head of his erection and knew that she was enjoying it.

"When you punched that judge, I wanted to take you right then and there," he groaned. Brennan whimpered at his words and rocked her hips more insistently against him. "Drag you to the SUV and bend you over in the back seat… And after I kissed you that night, I wanted nothing more than to take you home and make love to you until you couldn't stand up straight… until you lost your voice from screaming my name."

"Fuck," she gasped, letting her head fall backward. Booth became impossibly harder in response to her lack of propriety, and he couldn't let another moment pass without being inside her. He shifted her slightly and sheathed himself completely within her, crying out at the exquisite pleasure of their connection.

Brennan clung to his shoulders as she rode his hips, moaning when she felt his lips seize her nipple again. Her clit ground against him with every movement, and she found her release so quickly it was almost comical. He'd been inside her less than a minute. Booth felt her walls spasming around him, and he lifted his head to watch her face. She was always beautiful, whether she was knee deep in a grave or sleeping peacefully in his arms, but _this_ was when her beauty truly stunned him. Watching the woman he loved come apart in his arms was more intoxicating than any drug or drink.

When her tremors had eased, his hips slowed as well, and he lifted her off of him gently. Before Brennan could ask what he was doing, she found herself facing away from him, bent over the back of the couch. He filled her quickly once again, forcing the air from her chest and his name from her lips each time he slammed into her.

His pace quickened, and he gripped her hips forcefully, grinning in satisfaction when he felt a second climax rock through her body. Booth let his own release wash over him at last, emptying himself into her warmth.

"Wow," Booth panted, slipping out of her slowly and pulling her into his arms.

"I agree," she giggled. Brennan trembled in his arms, feeling slightly lightheaded. She kissed him deeply, clutching his broad shoulders like a lifeline.

"Why don't you wait for me upstairs while I get this mess cleaned up," he suggested, gesturing toward the remains of their dinner. She nodded and kissed him once more before moving on wobbly legs toward the staircase.

"Maybe I'll take a bath," she told him, smiling wickedly when he lifted an eyebrow in her direction. "I haven't used the jacuzzi in a while…"

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The following week brought with it a new case, and as Brennan rushed to dress so that they could get to the crime scene quickly, she noticed something odd about the clothes Booth had chosen.

"Why are you wearing that?"

"What?"

"I don't think you even wore a solid black tie to the last funeral we went to," she commented. "And solid black socks?"

"Oh, yeah… Gordon Gordon says that the 'quiet rebellions' just help me suppress other impulses."

"Isn't that a good thing?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

"You'd think so, but apparently all the other issues just have to 'rise to the top.'"

Brennan heard the sardonic note in his voice and could tell that Booth wasn't taking this particular change all that well. She didn't blame him. His quirky accessory choices were part of his personality, and she was troubled by their absence as well. She considered it as they made their way downstairs and toward the garage.

"Well… I guess you should do what feels right," she hedged, turning quickly to face him and causing him to run right into her. "But I have to draw the line at the boxers." Brennan allowed her hands to wander appreciatively. "I like being the only one to know which cartoon character is on your underwear."

Booth rolled his eyes, but she was out the door before he'd summoned much of a response. They were on the road before he spoke again.

"You know, there's nothing abnormal about my boxers," he said placidly.

"Well you do have a rather impressive collection for a man your age. Scooby-Doo was really just the tip of the glacier-"

"Iceberg, Bones. Tip of the iceberg."

"Right. Well, those were just the first ones I got to see. You've since moved onto boxers for pretty much every comic book superhero, that cartoon baby with the weird accent… And you've got at least one pair for every holiday, even _Flag Day_ ," she rolled her eyes playfully.

"Okay, first, _Don't hate on Stewie._ Second, there's nothing wrong with a little patriotism-"

"I never said I didn't _like_ them," she reminded him, enjoying their bickering. "I would just prefer that your shrink didn't know which muppet you're wearing today."

"I'm not gonna talk about my boxers with Gordon Gordon, okay?" he huffed. When she didn't reply, Booth glanced in her direction to see her perfect lips curling into that crooked smile he loved. He couldn't help but return it, realizing that her harassment had been aimed at improving his mood. "Thanks, Bones," he said softly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Brennan replied innocently.

"Sure… we'll go with that."

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Booth glared at the stack of paperwork on his desk with an expression he typically reserved for criminals or men who stared at his girlfriend. In spite of Brennan's efforts to cheer him up that morning, their case was already irritating him. The victim was Terry Bancroft, a man who had been extremely well-off and whose family had demanded the involvement of the Medico-Legal lab. When Booth had asked about their ability to order the squints around, Cam had explained that the Bancroft family had donated millions to the Jeffersonian in the past.

He had immediately felt disgust with the entire situation, and when he'd made an offhand comment about an expensive statue, Brennan had pointed out his 'issues with rich people.' He'd apologized halfheartedly, not wanting her to get the impression that he harbored any such negativity about _her_. In all honesty, he tended to forget that Brennan had money most of the time, and that was the way he liked it. She didn't live extravagantly, but the Bancroft family clearly did. Booth found something about that to be distasteful, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what that 'something' was.

While Brennan had been getting started on the evidence, Booth had taken a drive to the Anacostia area to poke around at the youth center Terry Bancroft had supported. His wife Clarissa had mentioned it before the team had left the crime scene that morning. Booth had spoken to the center's director, Robert Fraiser, who had told him about an incident involving Bancroft and a teen working as a drug mule. When Fraiser had opened the Julio Diaz's locker at the center, they'd found a bloodied sweatshirt. None of the other teens had been willing to speak up to say anything about the kid, the heroine, or Terry Bancroft, and Fraiser had shrugged his leather-clad shoulders apologetically.

Booth's thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of an old friend in his doorway. He greeted Sully amicably, thinking back to the last time he'd spoken with Brennan about him. Booth couldn't quite keep the smirk off his face as he recalled where that conversation had eventually led.

"So listen, man, I gotta ask…" Sully began awkwardly. "About your partner…"

"What about her?"

"Well… I asked her out, and she said she's in a relationship. Which normally I'd just accept and move on, but... I noticed that she doesn't wear a ring, so it can't be all _that_ serious, right?"

Booth clenched his fists beneath his desk in an attempt to temper his territorial response. He genuinely liked Sully, but Booth didn't care for what the man was implying. He pursed his lips in speculation, deciding to mess with him a bit.

"If Bones says it's serious, then it is. Did you flirt with her on that last case?" he asked knowingly. Booth heard his voice take on a slightly darker note and hoped Sully wouldn't notice.

"Yeah, pretty much the entire time," Sully shrugged.

"And she didn't notice, right?"

"No, which surprised me because she seems highly intelligent."

"She is; she just doesn't always pick up on social cues," Booth explained, smiling at the picture of Brennan that was sitting on his desk, facing away from Sully.

"What's her boyfriend like? Do you know him?"

"Yeah, you know, he's… 6'1", 190 pounds, great shape, hell of a shot… FBI Agent." Booth smirked as he watched the connections form in Sully's mind.

"You? Seriously?"

"Yup," Booth grinned happily.

"Wow. Hey, I'm sorry, man… Thanks for making me feel like an idiot though," he laughed. "I suppose I deserved that. Nicely done."

"It's okay. I don't blame you for being interested… But the flirting stops now," he added sternly.

"Of course, yeah. No worries. How long have you guys been together?"

"A little over a year."

"Damn," Sully said, impressed. He knew enough about Booth's past romantic history to understand that Brennan wasn't just another girlfriend. "Why haven't you put a ring on her finger yet, man? Keep things like this from happening?"

"Bones… doesn't agree with the whole marriage thing. She doesn't think it's necessary to make our relationship legal that way, and she thinks it's an 'antiquated ritual,'" Booth explained, twitching his fingers into air quotes. Sully frowned back at him.

"How have you changed so much that you're okay with that setup?"

"I love her," he shrugged, smiling broadly. "I don't want to change her. I don't need a wedding to know that I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with her. As long as I've got her, I'm happy."

Sully opened his mouth to reply, but Charlie interrupted with a knock on the open door behind him, announcing that Julio Diaz had been located...at the _morgue_.

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The case progressed quickly, but unfortunately, much of the evidence was compromised by one of their own. Hodgins had known the family and the victim for a very long time and had even been engaged to Clarissa Bancroft briefly. Rather than tell the rest of the team about the connection right away, however, Hodgins removed a photograph from among the evidence and warned Clarissa not to reveal their prior relationship.

Booth realized his deception during a visit to the Bancroft house and was absolutely livid with Hodgins. He lost his temper quickly, poking Hodgins hard in the chest as he fumed. Hodgins was removed from the case, but the evidence he'd handled was vital to the prosecution. It clearly implicated the director of the youth center, Robert Fraiser.

Cam and Brennan hoped to keep Hodgins' duplicity and former relationship quiet, but the defense attorney, Mr. Barron managed to unearth it. The team was then forced to come up with a piece of evidence that Hodgins hadn't been in contact with, and the entomologist actually went so far as to hand in his resignation. Cam accepted it reluctantly, and Hodgins willingness to forfeit his job went a long way in regaining Booth's approval. The team, minus Hodgins, agreed to meet with Caroline the following day to go over their testimonies.

That evening, Booth told Brennan that he would meet her at home and bring dinner. Cullen had asked to speak with him about the case, and there was really no reason for her to wait. Brennan agreed reluctantly, concerned about his outburst toward Hodgins and his overall moodiness throughout the case. She eyed his solid black tie ruefully and wondered if 'Gordon Gordon' really knew what he was doing. He was a psychiatrist after all…

As Brennan made her way home, it occurred to her that Dr. Wyatt might have actually made Booth get rid of his flamboyant accessories altogether, and that thought worried her. Booth's 'quiet rebellions' were part of his identity, every bit as much as his badge and gun. Though she'd once found them to be silly, it was now one of the things she loved most about him.

As soon as Brennan got home, she trotted up the stairs to check his dresser, relieved to find a drawer full of colorful socks. She gazed at them for a few moments, allowing her fingers to touch each mated pair. She recognized the ones he'd worn in Vegas, the ones he'd work on Christmas morning, and even the pair he'd pranced around the lab in during their lockdown the year before.

As she touched each pair lovingly, something small and black caught her eye at the back of the drawer, and she reached for it curiously. She thought for a moment that the tiny velvet box might contain cufflinks or something similar, but when she opened it, her eyes widened in shock.

It was undoubtedly an engagement ring, and it seemed to be an antique rather than something he'd purchased new from a jeweler. Brennan couldn't deny that it was a beautiful ring, noting that it most likely dated back to the Edwardian time period, and she wondered where and _when_ he'd gotten it. It sparkled even in the low light of the bedroom, and she touched its round center stone hesitantly.

Her mind reeled with questions… _Why hasn't he given it to me? Is he ever going to? Is he doubting_ my _commitment or his own? Do I ask him about it or pretend I didn't see anything? Do I even_ want _it?_

Brennan's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Booth entering the house downstairs, and she quickly returned the box to its original place, arranging the socks back into the positions in which she'd found them. She went down to greet him and helped him set up their dinner on the coffee table, but she felt distracted for the rest of the evening.

She lay awake in bed for hours that night, cautiously considering what it might be like to accept that ring from the man now sleeping beside her. Brennan was surprised to find that her mind did not rebel against the idea of having something symbolic that proclaimed their love to the world. It wasn't the first time she'd thought about it, but it felt different now that she knew he wanted it enough to hold onto an engagement ring.

Upon reflection, however, she supposed that her change in attitude really shouldn't be _all_ that surprising. Booth was different than anyone she'd ever known; it would make sense that her feelings for him were also different than any she's ever felt. Brennan was caught off-guard by how much she actually _wanted_ to wear that ring. When had that happened? She'd always said that she felt no need to get married, and that was still true. She didn't _need_ it. But in the darkness of the bedroom they shared together, Brennan found the courage to admit, at least to herself…

That she _wanted_ it.

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 **So we're making progress, yes? I really enjoyed rewriting the GG scenes to reflect BB's relationship. There will be another one in Chapter 29 as well. And poor Sully... I just couldn't resist the temptation to let Booth mess with him a bit.**

 **Reviews make me smile!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Good morning! (Or whatever it is where you are.) Thank you all so much for the great feedback. I reply to the ones I can, but if you're reviewing as a guest, I'd like to take the opportunity thank you directly. Your reviews mean just as much. I expect to hit 450 reviews with this chapter, and I can't even articulate how great that makes me feel. :)**

 **So anyways, we have some forward movement with this chapter. The Man in the Mansion was certainly a suspended disbelief kind of episode (trial takes place at the same time), so the case part of that one has been mostly glossed over. Hope no one minds. The next ep is more fun anyway.**

 **Enjoy and review if you can!**

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Chapter 27

Brennan decided not to say anything about the ring for the time being. She deduced that there must have been a reason that Booth had hidden it where she was unlikely to find it, and knowing Booth as she did, Brennan guessed that he might have some sort of romantic gesture planned. She didn't need the gesture, but she knew that it would make him happy. So she held her tongue and did her best to behave as she normally would, but the ring was never far from her thoughts as the days progressed.

The key piece of evidence in the case against Robert Fraiser was a fungus that Zack had discovered on the interior of the cervical vertebrae. Surprisingly enough, Angela was the one who helped to identify which particular strain of aspergillus it was. The team had gathered around a computer terminal on the platform, studying pictures of aspergillus at the microscopic level.

"They all look alike to me," Zack complained.

"No… These two are different," Angela argued.

"I don't see it," Brennan said.

"Well, they're both...puddly."

"Puddly?" Zack echoed, mystified.

"Well, by 'puddly,' I mean that the hyphae are septate and hyaline… And the conidiophores originate from the basal foot on the supporting hyphae and...terminate in a vesicle."

"You found it. Exactly how much time have you been spending with Hodgins?" Brennan said, looking at Angela as though she had expressed a desire to join the circus. Angela merely grinned, seeming rather pleased with herself. Brennan decided to ask her about it later, acknowledging that it would most likely mean submitting herself to a session of 'girl talk.'

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Two days after Robert Fraiser was found guilty, Booth and Brennan were having a particularly playful morning as they attempted to get ready for work. Booth laid out his clothing while she was showering and walked into the bathroom just as she was stepping out onto the thick bath mat. They shared a quick kiss, and she swatted his bare bottom as she headed into the bedroom. The sight of his gray suit, flashy tie, colorful socks, and cocky belt buckle laying on the bed brought a huge smile to her face, and she promptly returned to the bathroom to join him in the shower.

"Hey, Bones," he said curiously, wondering at the reason for her reappearance. She merely smiled and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him deeply. His hands found her hips and pulled her firmly against him, pressing his morning arousal into her groin.

"Hi," she answered belatedly, breathless with longing. She slid one slender hand down his chest to encircle her fingers around his thickness, and he moaned in surrender.

"I was planning to take care of that," he admitted shyly, shaking his head at the provocative smirk that formed on her face.

"Oh really?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, grazing his lips along her jawline.

"And what were you planning on thinking about while you 'took care of it?'" Booth gasped at the sultry quality in her voice and dropped his hands suddenly to the backs of her thighs, lifting her and pinning her against the shower wall before she could say another word.

"This!"

He buried himself within her in one long stroke, trembling slightly at the delicious sounds coming from her. There were times that her voice alone had the ability to make him hard, and the low cries emitting from her chest were nearly enough to send him over the edge right then and there. Booth fought back his release, determined to make her come first.

He didn't have to wait long. Within minutes, she was shattering against him, digging her nails into his shoulders as the tremors overtook her. Booth hissed involuntarily, but the pain simply fed into his already overloaded senses. He came forcefully inside of her, groaning into the soft flesh of her neck.

"Sorry about that," Brennan said lightly, eyeing the crescent-shaped marks on his shoulders. He glanced at them and shrugged carelessly, but she nudged him farther into the stream of water and soothed the skin with gentle hands. Booth smiled, tracing the contours of her face with his dark eyes. His gaze drifted to her neck, and he winced ruefully.

" _I'm_ sorry about _that_ ," he told her. He had apparently bitten her a little as he'd reached his climax. Brennan lifted a hand to investigate, looking confused. She hadn't felt him bite her, having still been in the throes of her own release, but sure enough, there were slight impressions of his teeth at the base of her neck. She smiled and shrugged much as he had done, knowing that the collar of her labcoat would cover it. They kissed again, and Brennan left him to finish his shower, standing on the bath mat again to towel herself dry.

"What was that about anyway?" he asked curiously as watched her through the glass.

"I saw what you'd picked out for today," she replied. "I missed your Boothy accessories."

" _Boothy?"_

"Yes." Brennan grinned at him again and returned to the bedroom to figure out her own wardrobe choices. She had donned her undergarments and was searching the closet for a particular jacket when Booth's arms came around her from behind. His skin was still slightly damp, and his freshly showered aroma had Brennan aching for him all over again.

"You know, I think we might have time for round two," he murmured against her temple. Brennan considered arguing for a brief moment, but her head fell back against his shoulder as he slipped a hand into her lacy underwear.

"It would have to be quick," she warned, her body already responding.

"No problem."

He removed her clothing quickly, allowing the satin and lace garments to fall to the floor, and he pulled her swiftly backward to their bed. They carefully avoided the clothing he'd laid out earlier and collapsed in a heap on the opposite side. Before they could go much further, however, Brennan's phone rang from the nightstand.

"No, no, no, no," Booth pled. "Don't answer it."

"It's probably my publicist," she explained, recalling that she was scheduled to meet the woman in her office that morning. Brennan moaned as Booth's mouth found her nipple, and she was grateful when the ringing stopped after a few moments.

"See that? God loves us," he said, his voice muffled against her tender flesh.

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full." They shared a laugh, but in the next instant, the phone was ringing again. "Ugh, she'll only keep calling," Brennan groaned.

"I thought you hated publicity," Booth grumbled, watching her reach for her cell.

"Well, it's part of my contract," she reminded him. "The book's getting a lot of attention. I'm just trying to do my job… Hello? ...Hi, Ellen."

Brennan tried to focus on her phone conversation, but Booth seemed to have taken up the challenge of distracting her. She gasped as his fingers teased her clit and his mouth left a lovebite directly between her breasts.

"That seems… That seems like a lot," she told Ellen, struggling to hold back a moan as his fingers entered her smoothly. "Well it's two interviews and a book signing in one day… I...I don't…I don't know about Tuesday." _Fuck_ , she thought, holding the phone away from her for a moment to surrender to his insistent kiss. "Just, um... bring the schedule to the Jeffersonian. We'll discuss it then, okay? I'll see you. ...I'm leaving right now," she lied.

Brennan hung up the phone and kissed Booth again, rolling her eyes at his smug expression as she flipped him beneath her.

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"Sorry I'm late," Brennan said as she entered the lab. Hodgins had been apparently tormenting Ellen Laskow and her assistant Hank Beldin with some sort of insect demonstration. Ellen looked appalled and disgusted, and Hank was an unattractive shade of green.

"Oh thank God," Ellen praised. "You know, dear, your book is on the Best Seller's list. You don't have to work in this place anymore."

"This is my real love, Ellen." Brennan rolled her eyes surreptitiously. _How many times do I have to tell her that?_

"I know a therapist, dear, who could really help you," Ellen said. Brennan shot her an irritated look, and Ellen wisely moved on, handing Brennan a folder containing the publicity schedule. "Okay, um, the reading and the book signing are this Wednesday night. Hank has arranged for transportation."

"Yes," the nervous man spoke up, "A car will pick you up here at the lab, Dr. Brennan." Before Brennan could argue, Ellen was speaking again.

"And then there's the radio interview next Tuesday. That's an early one, so just tell Hank what you'd like for breakfast."

"That's not necessary," Brennan insisted, and her statement was echoed a half-second later by her partner, who had appeared at her side.

"Sending a car won't be necessary, and I'll make sure she eats," Booth assured them.

"Uh, yes," Brennan agreed reluctantly. She knew there would be no talking Booth out of his personal security agenda. "Ellen, Hank, you'll remember my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth."

"Certainly," Ellen nodded, smiling vapidly at Booth as she extended her hand. Booth shook it as briefly as possible and shifted under her appreciative gaze. Brennan scowled and opened her mouth to tell Ellen that her partner was not a sexual object, but Booth interceded.

"We gotta go, Bones," he said, pulling her arm toward the exit. "They called me before I even got to the Hoover. They found a floater in the marina."

"Well… Thanks for the schedule, Ellen." Brennan clutched the folder and swatted Booth's hand away gently. "I actually _can_ walk, Booth," she grouched.

"See, I love when you get all huffy with me like that. Makes me want to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to do wicked things to you," he grinned, whispering low in her ear as they left the lab.

"I'm pretty sure we've already been wicked enough for one morning." Brennan attempted to keep her tone cool and aloof, but the smirk on her face couldn't be contained.

"Nah," he disagreed, winking at her roguishly. "I'll never get enough."

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"Did you get any other details other than the location?" Brennan asked him, pulling her kit from the back of the SUV.

"Just a few. A guy docked the boat, saw something floating in the water, and thought it was a dead fish. It ended up being a decomposed hand. The dive crew just located the rest of the body."

They made their way over the maze of connecting docks to the forensic and dive teams just as an anchor was being lifted into the air.

"Wait," Booth said to a nearby agent. "Body on the anchor?" He and Brennan shared a wide-eyed, nervous glance.

"Yeah, tied to the chain," the agent replied. "Body's not tied with rope. The diver said they used-"

"Red tape," Brennan interrupted.

"How'd you know?"

"Because that's how I wrote it."

They watched as the body rose to eye level and water cascaded from it noisily. The remains were in a fairly advanced stage of decomposition, and Brennan could tell at first glance that the victim was a middle-aged male. She and Booth stuck around to see the remains packed up for transport, and Booth could tell she was worried. Her book had been released less than two weeks ago, and in Booth's opinion, the situation couldn't possibly be a coincidence.

"You okay?" he asked as they drove back to the lab.

"I'm fine," she mumbled vacantly. He recognized her reflexive answer and decided to let her be for now. Perhaps a change of subject...

"You know, you never asked me why I went back to wearing my socks and stuff."

"I meant to," she said, lifting her brows in surprise. "Someone distracted me though." They shared a smile.

"Well, I think it was mostly to do with my reaction to Hodgins' little stunt with the evidence," he admitted sheepishly. "Gordon Gordon basically said I was angrier with Hodgins than I should have been because I'm judgmental about his money. He thinks my rebellions are a way of overcoming my upbringing."

"In addition to rebelling against conformity?"

"Yeah. I guess the dress code change was kind of an experiment to see how I'd react. Pretty sure I failed that test when I shoved Hodgins around."

"Or maybe you simply proved Dr. Wyatt's point," Brennan observed. "It seems that he most likely expected something similar to happen." They both fell silent, contemplating the enigmatic psychiatrist, and Brennan recalled another question she'd meant to bring up sooner. "Why do you call your therapist 'Gordon Gordon?"

"Because that's how he introduces himself," Booth explained, adopting a British accent as he continued. "'Hi, I'm Gordon. Gordon Wyatt.'"

"Like 'James. James Bond.'"

"Bond, James Bond," he corrected with a grin. She smiled back and returned to the subject at hand.

"So it's a nickname? Or are you making fun of him?"

"A little of both, I guess. He doesn't take offense to it though," Booth assured her. "Actually, he made me realize something about my flashy belt buckles."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he said they were provocative. When I asked what he meant by that, he said they were like a modern-day codpiece. To 'force the eye to the groin.' Makes me wonder if that had anything to do with your um...fixation with them," he said suggestively. Brennan bit back a shy smile.

"Well…it was certainly one of the first things I noticed when you picked me up from the airport," she admitted. "But buying the cocky belt buckle had more to do with our inside jokes. I didn't really even expect you to wear it."

"It's from you, Bones. And I love it. Of course I wear it." That earned him a sweet smile, and he was pleased to see that she looked more relaxed by the time he pulled up outside the lab. "I'll touch base with you later, okay?" She nodded and kissed him goodbye.

Once Brennan and the rest of the team got to work on the analysis, it was quickly confirmed that the victim was indeed a male in his mid-40s. Brennan estimated time of death at five days, which surprised Cam. Hodgins explained that the advanced rate of decomposition was due to 'blue crab season.' The victim appeared to have been shot in the head, but the bullet had passed through cleanly.

"Dr. Brennan, exactly how similar is this situation to your book?" Cam asked.

"The victims in my book were bound and gagged with red tape, shot, and fed to various animals," Brennan replied grimly.

"Cheery," she replied. Brennan gave a half shrug.

"I loved the symbolism of the red tape. Perfect way to dispose of bureaucrats," Hodgins enthused.

"Thank you." Brennan's tone was even, and she kept her focus on the remains, determined not to let her imagination get the best of her. Yes, this was how the first victim in her book had been killed, but it wouldn't do them any good to be jumping to conclusions.

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Booth, Brennan, and Hodgins gathered around Angela at her computer terminal as she pulled up her facial reconstruction. Hodgins lowered his head to speak softly to her.

"TCBs and lead we found in the collagen mean the victim was from the north end of the Chesapeake. Probably outside Annapolis."

"Did you have to whisper that in my ear?" Angela smirked, mimicking his tone.

"Just seemed right," he murmured back. Booth bent low on Angela's opposite side and mocked them in low tones.

"Okay, check the image against the DMV's photos from Maryland."

Brennan grinned at his teasing and shook her head. As Angela ran the search through the DMV database for a match, Booth pulled Brennan away for a moment of privacy.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, hoping that her previous good mood was still in effect.

"What do you mean? I'm fine…" Booth tried not to roll his eyes at her two-word mantra.

"Something like this… It's understandable if you're upset."

"It's probably a coincidence," she dodged. But he knew her too well to accept her answer at face value, and they shared a silent exchange that was interrupted by the arrival of Agent Sullivan.

"Hey, how's it going?" Sully greeted them.

"Hi. What are you doing here?" Brennan asked with a frown. They hadn't spoken since he'd asked her out, but Booth had told her that Sully was now fully aware of their relationship.

"Well, I heard we had a copycat killer using your book as-"

"That hasn't been established," she interjected.

"Yeah… I've got it covered here, Sully," Booth assured him. He felt no true animosity toward Sully, but knowing that the guy was attracted to Brennan didn't make Booth particularly eager for his company.

"Well, two hands are better than one, Booth," he argued.

"Well, last time I checked, I have two hands. See?" He held them up as evidence. "Thanks."

"Testosterone spill on aisle four," Angela quipped, her back still turned to them.

"We don't know that my book is the cause. So far what we do know is-"

"Someone died exactly the way described in your book." It was Sully interrupting _her_ this time. "Do you keep any of your old fan mail?"

"No. I don't read it. The publicist deals with all that."

"Why are you asking, Sully? I'm in charge of this investigation." Booth wondered why the guy was even still in town.

"Well, Booth, I was a profiler for two years. I have a lot of experience with these cases. This could be someone showing what a big fan he is or someone trying to get close to her. _Too close._ "

Brennan scoffed and inwardly cursed Sully. Booth was already protective enough, and here was Sully making matters worse.

"I don't need to be protected," she insisted. But she drew back in surprise when both men turned to her and spoke in unison.

"Yes, you do."

"Look," Sully said, turning back to Booth. "You still call the shots. I just think I'd be an asset to the team." Booth speculated for a moment and settled upon an agreeable compromise.

"Okay, fine. We send all the fan mail to Sully. In his office," Booth decreed, hoping that he made himself clear that Sully would have no need to hang around the lab.

"Fine. I'll call Ellen," Brennan agreed. She was privately thankful that Booth had come up with that particular solution. She had only read a little fan mail back in the beginning, and some of it had been disturbing. She'd been glad when the publisher had offered to have it routed through their fan mail department for her. Up until this point, it was an issue that had basically been out of sight and thus out of mind.

"Jim Lopata," Angela announced to the room as a whole. "Forty-three, married, no kids. From Glen Burnie, outside of Annapolis."

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Booth met with the victim's wife and brother-in-law that afternoon at the Hoover. Connie Lopata was precisely what he would have expected from a tearful, grieving widow, but Booth was slightly surprised to hear her brother Greg Braley disparaging the victim almost immediately. He said that Jim Lopata had been a drinker and a jerk, telling his sister that he felt she was better off without him. Greg admitted to enjoying mystery novels, and Booth wished he'd brought Brennan in for the interview to judge Greg's reaction to her. A quick check of Connie's medical records revealed a string of ER visits that indicated likely spousal abuse, and Booth scheduled another interview with Greg for the following morning.

While Booth and Brennan made dinner together that evening, Booth told her what he'd learned about Lopata that afternoon. Brennan added her own news, explaining that Hodgins had found sand stuck in the adhesive of the red tape, but the sediment distribution indicated that the sand had come from somewhere other than the dump site. The red tape had actually been a type of glass tape that is commonly used for electrical and industrial applications. Greg Braley worked as an airport baggage handler, an occupation that used glass tape to secure cargo holds. Both partners agreed to withhold judgment until Braley's alibi was checked.

"Listen, Bones… I know this may all still be a coincidence, but I really would rather you didn't go anywhere alone until we have a better idea of what's going on."

"Booth…"

"No, just listen," he pled. "You have your book reading and signing thing tomorrow night, right?" She nodded. "Well, I'd planned on being with you for that anyway, but now I'm even more nervous about security. I can't help but worry about the timing, you know?"

Brennan scrutinized his features for a few moments before nodding in acquiescence. His stress and concern were obvious, and although it went against her instincts not to argue the point, she hoped that doing so would ease his mind. He hadn't exactly been handling his stress all that well lately…

"Thanks, baby," he grinned, pulling her into a tight embrace. Their lips connected, and they kissed without urgency until a sizzling sound alerted them that their pasta had boiled over.

"We've got Parker this weekend, but maybe we could go out for dinner on Sunday after we drop him off?" Brennan suggested hopefully. Booth needed some relaxation, and she knew him well enough to understand that including food in the scenario would be all the pull he needed. "There's a restaurant I want to try. I heard one of the techs talking about it the other day, and it sounds like a place we'd like."

"Sounds good," he agreed.

Brennan smiled, pleased that he hadn't asked what type of restaurant it was. The place was a bit on the expensive side, and she knew it would be best if Booth didn't realize that fact until it was too late. She fully expected the need to resort to using her fame to get them in the door as well, especially on short notice, but she didn't mind doing that if it meant giving Booth a nice evening out.

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Booth watched Greg's Braley's reaction when Brennan entered the interrogation room with him the following morning, but he saw little more than a flicker of recognition. It was nothing compared to the sycophantic responses she often received. Greg admitted to having been aware that his sister had been abused by her husband, but he had an alibi for the time of his brother-in-law's death. After they let Greg leave, Brennan followed Booth back to his office.

"Booth, did you see his right hand?"

"No, not really. Why?"

"His third and fourth phalanges are fused together. Greg has syndactyly."

"Okay… Is that relevant?"

"Well, it can indicate the presence of other birth defects, things that might affect his range of motion. We should look into that," she explained, looking hopeful that perhaps they'd found their killer.

"Would he be able to shoot a gun? You know, if his fingers were fused like that, would he still be able to pull a trigger?" He mimed shooting a gun while holding the fingers in question together.

"Yes, I don't see why not," she reasoned.

"Okay, that's good enough for me."

"If it's not him… There are two other murders in the book," Brennan reminded him, looking troubled.

"I know," he said gently. Before he could say anything else, Ellen's assistant appeared in his doorway behind Brennan. "Hank," Booth greeted him. Brennan turned expectantly.

"Ellen sent me; she said you needed all of your old fan mail," the waifish man explained. "Plus, she needs a half-caf soy latte every day at ten. Uh, half-caf soy latte with a dollop of foam and a sprinkle of chocolate shavings _every day_ …" His anxious rambling sputtered to a stop, and he changed tack. "Um, I'm looking for an Agent Sullivan?"

"Yeah, his office is down the hall," Booth told him, pointing in the appropriate direction. Hank paced away stiffly, and the partners shared a look of bewilderment as Booth's phone rang. "Booth," he answered in typical fashion. "...Yeah."

"What's wrong?" Brennan asked as he snapped his phone shut, able to read his expression easily. Booth grimaced apologetically.

"There's another body."

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Brennan spent the car ride fidgeting in her seat, knowing exactly what they were going to find when they reached the local pet store where the remains had been discovered. Victim number two had been left in a rat habitat, and seeing the scene in reality affected Brennan greatly. It was the first time in over a decade that she could recall feeling queasy in the presence of human remains. Booth took over as much of the transport as he could, keeping a wary eye on Brennan as he spoke to the forensic techs. When at last they could leave, he escorted her from the store with a hand to her back.

Booth dropped her off at the lab and returned to his office, and he was surprised to see her strolling through his doorway not long after he'd arrived.

"Sadie Keller," she announced brusquely. "Twenty-eight, lived in Chevy Chase."

"Wow, that was fast," Booth commented, deciding not to take issue with the fact that she had left the lab on her own. She looked irritable enough as it was. "Her face was chewed off…" Brennan rounded the desk and perched herself on the edge, tossing the victim's dossier in front of him.

"Aside from the bite marks on her parietal and sphenoid bones, the skull was in tact enough for Angela to do a facial reconstruction."

"Yeah," Booth said, looking over the information she'd handed him. "Sadie Keller...recently married to Ashton Keller, twenty-nine. No work history...went to some pretty fancy schools though."

"She was rich."

"Right. So we've got a dead traveling salesman and a prep school socialite. What the hell is the connection?"

"Not Greg Braley," Sully announced as he entered the room. "His story checks out. He was camping the night Lopata was killed. Two rangers recognized him."

"So we're back to me," Brennan scowled.

"No...your book," Sully corrected her, sensing her mood and wondering if perhaps he should have just emailed Booth instead of walking into their tense little bubble.

"Well, I can only deal with what's before me," Brennan snapped. "Two distinct cases. Physical evidence-"

"Look Bones, I know it's probably easier for you to believe that the cases aren't linked-"

" _No_ ," she disagreed in frustration. "There is nothing that would make the loss of two lives easier for me, Booth." Her eyes shimmered with suppressed emotion, and Booth tried to calm her.

"I'm sorry…"

"Look, I'm not burying my head in the sand here," she told him, her voice rising dangerously. Booth quirked a brow at her correct usage of the colloquialism but held silent as she continued. "I wanna catch whoever did this as much as you do, but I have a _method_ , and the method doesn't change. I'll be back in my lab."

She stormed from the office, and Booth clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to follow her and drive her back himself. He reminded himself that this was most likely a situation in which he needed to relinquish a little control, and he stayed seated in spite of his protective instincts.

"Wow," Sully said, looking uncomfortable but still full of admiration for the woman who had just left the room. Booth scowled, inwardly acknowledging that Brennan was indeed impressive and stunning when she was angry, but he didn't much care for the smitten expression on Sully's face. "Hope you won't have to sleep on the couch tonight," Sully teased.

"Oh, I will, but it'll be the one in her office. I doubt I'll be able to get her out of that lab until we have answers."

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The red tape binding Sadie Keller turned out to be a match for that which bound the Jim Lopata, but this time there was an actual bullet to analyze. It was slightly unique in that it was a jacketed bullet, and Zack surmised that it would have left the same impression on the bone that he had found on Lopata's skull. The most logical conclusion was that both victims had been killed with the same gun and bound with the same tape. However, that remained the only connection between them.

Booth interviewed Ashton Keller and discovered that the second victim's marriage hadn't been any happier than Lopata's. Rather than an abusive situation, however, Ashton Keller explained that his wife had frequent illicit affairs. He claimed to love her in spite of it, and he seemed appropriately despondent at the death of his wife. He too had a solid alibi for the time of his wife's death, and Booth felt his own frustration peak.

Sully flagged him down on the way back to his office, explaining that he'd pulled the more suspicious letters from the fan mail and had compiled a list of likely suspects.

"Have you read any of this shit, Booth?" he asked with a deep frown.

"No, why?"

"Some of it's… Well, some of it's pretty disturbing. I can see why she lets someone else deal with it."

"Disturbing how? Like what?" Booth pressed.

"I included the letters for each person on the list," Sully assured him. "I'm sure most of them are just harmless nuts and...well, pervs. But maybe one of them is your killer." Sully retreated to his office, feeling uncomfortable at the dark expression on Booth's face.

 _Pervs? Fantastic._ Booth sighed and picked up the folder without opening it. He headed to the lab, picking up lunch on the way, and he found Brennan hunched over her desk. Her pen moved rapidly over the file in front of her, and her brow was creased with stress.

"Lunchtime, Bones."

"I'm not hungry." She glanced at him briefly before returning her eyes to her work. "I'm cataloguing injuries the two victims suffered…"

"I understand, but you still need to eat. It won't take long, just a quick break."

"I'll eat later."

Booth pursed his lips, unconvinced, and he set up their lunch on the coffee table, hoping that perhaps the smell might revive her appetite. However, after a few minutes, it became clear that her stubborn streak was in full force today.

"You don't need to feel responsible for this, Bones. You know that's not what this is. Those people would most likely still be dead even if you hadn't written that book."

"I know that," she mumbled. But her pen had stopped moving, and her eyes had glazed over slightly.

"I understand that you're afraid of it happening a third time. I am too. But that doesn't make any of this your _fault_."

Brennan sighed and massaged her temples for a moment before getting up to join him on the couch. Booth offered her an egg roll, and she nibbled at it dejectedly, letting her head tip to the side to rest on his shoulder. They sat in silence until Brennan had placed her half-eaten egg roll on the table, and Booth kissed the top of her head before wrapping an arm around her.

"It's not your fault, Bones. This guy is exploiting your writing, and you're no more to blame for his actions than anyone else is." She remained quiet, simply allowing him to comfort her, and he continued, "You wouldn't blame the people who gave you ideas for your books, right? You wouldn't blame the publicist for promoting it or the bookstore owners for selling it… So how does it make any sense to blame yourself? None of those people have anything to do with the murders, and neither do you."

Brennan found it rather interesting that _he_ of all people was lecturing her on unfounded guilt, but she decided not to point that out. She exhaled deeply, and Booth felt her relax into him a little more. He was content to hold her for as long as she'd allow, but he really hoped she'd agree to eat something. After a few minutes, she lifted her head to look at him.

"Thanks," she said solemnly. Booth kissed her softly and gave her an affectionate, crooked smile, and he was pleased when she returned it. He was even happier when she sat up and pulled a food carton toward her.

"So… Sully narrowed down the fan mail to the people most likely to act out in obsessive and dangerous ways. I brought the file with me," he told her, opening the folder so that they could read it together. A quick glance at the master list had Booth's forehead wrinkling in surprise. "Hey, what do you know… Look at that one," he said, pointing to a familiar name. _Oliver Laurier._

"Oliver," Brennan said vaguely. "We haven't seen him lately."

"Yeah, well I'd had enough of him following you around after all of your events, remember? I give his name and picture to security every time now."

Brennan nodded, recalling the last time she'd crossed paths with Laurier over the summer. He'd gone so far as to attempt to touch her, and Brennan had twisted his arm rather forcefully behind his back. Unfortunately, that had only seemed to arouse him, and that incident had been enough to push Booth beyond the limits of his tolerance for the man.

"I'm gonna go see what our buddy Oliver has been up to lately," Booth announced once they'd finished their meal. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay. I love you," she said, lifting her lips for his goodbye kiss.

"Love you too, Bones."

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Laurier had moved since the last time Booth had paid him a visit, and he now lived in a small apartment building that was located a bit too close to the Jeffersonian for Booth's peace of mind. Laurier recognized Booth immediately, once again peering at him from the other side of a security chain. When Laurier refused to open the door, Booth shot the deadbolt and kicked the door open.

"My shrink is gonna be pissed," he muttered to himself.

The sight that met Booth's eyes when he entered the apartment was enough to curdle his blood. Multiple puppets were hanging from the ceiling, dangling like macabre piñatas in the afternoon sunlight. Each one was bound with red tape.

"I didn't do anything," Laurier insisted, standing nervously near the wall.

"Of course you didn't," Booth said sarcastically, crossing the room quickly to cuff him.

Once Laurier was in the interrogation room, his interests became perfectly clear. Booth gritted his teeth at the man's audacity.

"Dr. Brennan's book signing is tonight. I want to see her again."

"Let's stay on point here, Oli," Booth growled. Laurier had given him a story about creative roleplay as an explanation for the creepy puppets, but now he'd moved on to negotiations.

"I am on point. I want to see Dr. Brennan."

"This isn't like going to see Santa. It's more like the principal's office, you see. I'm in charge. I call the shots."

"Did you read Dr. Brennan's new book, Agent Booth?" Laurier asked, narrowing his eyes in speculation.

"Why do you care?"

"Merely wondering if you know how many victims are in it…"

"What's this about, Oli?"

"I want to see Dr. Brennan. _Santa_."

Booth backed away, belatedly realizing that he'd been leaning over the metal table into the creep's face. Laurier's expression was disarming. His eyes were intelligent and calculating, but Booth just wasn't sure the guy had it in him to kill someone.

 _There's only one way to find out_ , Booth thought with a scowl. _Maybe she'll say no…_

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 **I won't lie; the puppet thing totally had me wondering about a connection between Laurier and this latest serial killer. But since Laurier has vasovagal syncope, I'm guessing he's not making human puppets.**

 **Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought. See you on Bonesday!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Happy Bonesday! (Finally) I haven't watched for all that long, but it feels pretty bizarre to just now be coming up on a season finale in JULY. But...whatever. I'm just glad it's still on at all for the time being.**

 **There's a bit of everything in this chapter (except angst). We'll solve a case, have a little fun with Parker and Pops, have a date night followed by some pretty heavy smut. This is your warning. I got brave... And so did Brennan. ;)**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 28

Brennan changed her clothes in her office in preparation for her book signing that evening. She still had a little time before Booth would be there to pick her up, and she hoped that his interrogation of Oliver Laurier wouldn't make him late. Angela joined her, nodding in approval of her outfit and helping her into her jacket.

"Booth insisted on doubling security for my book reading," Brennan told her, sliding her arms into the sleeves of the tailored jacket.

"Hot," Angela grinned.

"It's not _hot_ , it's annoying. I'm not a damsel in distress."

"You should be used to it by now, Sweetie. Besides, he was like that even before you guys started going out. Booth acts like this because he loves you, not because he thinks you're weak," Angela assured her.

"I know," Brennan sighed, holding up two different earrings so that her friend could pick the better one. "I just wish he wouldn't worry so much."

"That one," Angela said, pointing to the earring in Brennan's left hand. Angela picked up a necklace that Brennan had laid out and fastened it around her friend's neck.

"Thanks. How's it going with Hodgins?"

"We're running on sex and laughter," she chuckled. "But I'm happy with that. We did it in the supply closet an hour ago." Angela grinned salaciously, and Brennan smiled back.

"Which one?"

"A new one I found near the Egyptology storage rooms. I can give you directions," she said with a wink.

Brennan hugged Angela and thanked her for her help before heading toward Cam's office to let her know of her plans. She found Cam bent over her autopsy table examining a tissue sample.

"Cam? I have a book signing tonight."

"Oh, right," Cam replied, nodding in recollection. "You think that's safe?"

"Well, there haven't been any threats on my life," Brennan reasoned, rolling her eyes as she continued. "Plus, Booth will be there with double the usual number of security guards."

"No threats on these victims' lives either," she pointed out. Brennan shrugged, not feeling up to arguing about it with Cam of all people.

"Is that the soft tissue sample from the second victim?"

"Sadie Keller," Cam nodded. "Found something irregular. Oxygen saturation levels were low. I think she might have been unconscious before she was killed."

Brennan noted that the scenario would explain the lack of struggle, but she reminded Cam that there had been no skeletal evidence of a head injury. The scenario would also mean that the killer had changed tactics, which was something that serial killers were highly unlikely to do. Hodgins interrupted their conversation a moment later to report his finding that the sand he'd recovered from the first victim had actually been _manufactured_ sand. He was now attempting to track down the manufacturer.

Brennan's phone chirped from her pocket, and she answered it her usual manner. It was Booth, telling her that he was coming to pick her up. She met him outside of the main entrance so that they could leave quickly, and Brennan noticed two things immediately when she climbed into the SUV. First, Booth appeared to enjoy the sight of her in a skirt, and second, he was extremely anxious.

"What's going on?" she asked. "What happened with Oliver?"

"He wants to talk to you. I don't like it, but you might be able to get something out of him. You don't have to though, Bones."

"I'll be fine. Is that why you're scowling?" she teased him. He rolled his eyes with a sigh and tried to relax his features.

"I just don't like the idea of you being in a room with him. He's a creep. I'm serious, Bones, if he steps out of line even once-"

"I won't hesitate to show him who's in charge. I can take care of myself, Booth. I know Oliver's a creep, but I'm not afraid of him."

"I know," Booth nodded, reaching for her hand. "And I'll be behind the glass the whole time." Brennan wasn't sure if his reassurance was for her or for himself, but she squeezed his hand back in solidarity, hoping to calm his nerves.

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When she entered the interrogation room, she was reminded again of how uncomfortable Oliver made her feel. Since meeting her during the Cleo Eller case, Oliver had shifted his devotion from Cleo to Brennan, and Brennan's fame had only made it easier for him. Although she'd given Booth her typical self-reliant attitude last summer, she'd been inwardly relieved that Oliver wouldn't be able to crash her events anymore. Being in the public eye was uncomfortable enough for Brennan as it was.

"Wow," Oliver grinned, his eyes gleaming in appreciation. "It's like you dressed up just to see me again." Brennan suppressed a shudder as she watched his gaze move hungrily over her body. She took a seat across from him, unable to keep her disgust off her face.

"I can assure you, Oliver, that's… that's not the case."

"But that's what it feels like. To me."

"Did you kill those people?" Brennan asked, wanting to get the discussion over with quickly.

"I can't answer that yet. I wanna _talk_ a while first," Oliver said, leaning forward in his chair with bright interest. "The dead bodies...is it true? Did they really get eaten, like in the book?"

"Yes. They did."

"I knew it!" he replied gleefully. "Some of the Brennanites were skeptical that the deaths were realistic, but I told them…"

" _Did he say Brennanites?"_ Booth asked from her earpiece.

"Did you say Brennanites?" she relayed.

"Murder mystery chat room members," Oliver explained, his eyes still locked on her. "See, all chat room members have to identify themselves with their favorite author. I'm a Brennanite, _of course_. But there are also, uh... Patterstonians, Graftonadas-"

"Okay, Oliver, I understand," she cut him off, feeling even more uneasy. "What did you tell them?"

"That you couldn't make those things up. That everything you write is based in fact. It could really happen."

"Oliver. I want to talk about the murders," Brennan said, attempting to get him back on track. Unfortunately, his eyes dilated even more, and his smile became even more sycophantic.

"You look... _so beautiful._ Maybe I can get a picture of us together-"

"The _murders_ , Oliver."

"I know you just dismiss me as another fan, but once you get to know me, you'll realize I'm an interesting man…" He reached out hand as if to touch her cheek, and Brennan backed away instantly.

"No touching, Oliver," she cringed in disgust. The door opened almost immediately, and Booth strode into the room looking irate.

"Let's go," Booth said grimly.

"No. We want to be alone," Oliver argued.

"No, you blew your chance for that," Booth replied, pulling Oliver out of the chair. "You can sit in the cell till you're ready to talk." Brennan rose from her seat as well, and Oliver looked at her with a new urgency.

"Wait, don't leave yet. Not yet." He reached across the table toward her, and Brennan reacted instinctively, swinging her fist hard into his face. Oliver fell to his knees, clutching his nose.

"See?" Brennan addressed Booth with her brows lifted in challenge. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, I know," Booth replied, watching as Oliver got his footing.

"Oh my nose…" He pulled his hands away from his face and looked at them in horror. "Oh my God. There's so much-"

He looked from his bloody hands to Brennan in alarm, and in the next second, he was unconscious on the floor.

"Whoa," Booth muttered. "That was unexpected."

"Booth, he has vasovagal syncope."

"He faints at the sight of blood," Booth agreed, proud that he knew the term even if he hadn't just seen an enactment of the condition.

"He couldn't have committed those murders," she reasoned. Booth instructed a couple of junior agents to make sure Oliver got some medical attention, but there was no longer a reason to hold him. "We need to go," she reminded him.

"Are you sure you need to go to this thing? We still don't know enough about what's going on-"

"Booth, we've talked about this. You've doubled security, and you'll be right there with me every second. I'll be fine. Besides, the killer's not after me. If he _is_ using the book, that makes me the object of these actions, not the _target_."

Booth frowned and escorted her from the building. He knew she was right, but that didn't make him any less anxious about the situation. They drove across town toward Landon and Mason Booksellers as the sun was setting, and Booth found himself replaying Brennan's well-placed right hook in his mind.

"You gotta admit though, Bones… Punching Laurier felt pretty good, huh?" Booth grinned at her mischievously, and she nodded and smiled back at him in kind, not feeling at all repentant of her actions.

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There was a large crowd of people lined up outside of the bookstore, but one familiar figure drew their attention as Booth pulled the SUV up to the curb. Brennan rolled her window down to speak to Hank Beldin, furrowing her brow in concern at his panicked expression.

"Oh my God, Ellen is going to be so upset you didn't take the car," he whimpered.

"No, it's okay. I wanted to go with Booth. You're not going to get in trouble," Brennan replied, not bothering to inform the wheezy little man that her partner wouldn't have allowed her to come alone anyway.

"Man, you're shaking," Booth observed. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. It's my fault. I'm diabetic, and I haven't had time to eat. And Ellen's not here yet…" he fretted. Brennan looked alarmed at his admission and turned to Booth.

"Do you have any food? Candy?" Brennan asked him urgently. Booth surrendered a half-eaten candy bar from his pocket and watched a little petulantly as Brennan handed it to Hank. "Here, eat. You need the sugar. Where is Ellen?"

"I don't know. She went to the hotel two hours ago to change her clothes. Left me to handle everything. God there was almost a _riot_ over the seating arrangements," Hank replied, chewing the candy bar obediently.

"Well did you call her?" Booth asked.

"I can't. She left her Blackberry, as usual, for me to answer so I would actually be calling myself," Hank whined frantically. "This is not like her; she's never late."

Booth told him that he would send a local cop by the hotel to check things out, and Hank thanked him nervously for the candy. He instructed Booth to pull around to the rear entrance so that Brennan could 'avoid the nuts.' Booth nodded, not really needing the advice. He knew the drill by now, and he kept his hand firmly in place on the small of Brennan's back as he escorted her across the empty parking lot.

Footsteps approached rapidly from behind them, and before Brennan could so much as blink, Booth had drawn his weapon and stepped between her and the unknown man.

"Alright, whoa, whoa. Hold it right there."

"Whoa!" The young man halted in his tracks, looking utterly terrified.

"FBI. Hands in the air."

"I just wanted an autograph," the man sputtered, holding his hands aloft. In his right hand, he clutched a copy of _Red Tape, White Bones_.

"Okay, just wait till the Doc gets inside. Okay, pal?" Booth returned his gun to its holster as the man sprinted off in the opposite direction with a shouted apology. When Booth turned back to face Brennan, she was regarding him with a quirk of her brow that questioned his sanity.

"Was that necessary?"

"Just doing my job, okay Bones?" He replaced his hand at her back, but this time he allowed his arm to snake around her waist and pull her a little closer.

"I actually think that man might have urinated in his pants," she teased him. "Good thing he wasn't dressed as a clown."

Booth laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple, but when he looked at her face, he noticed that her forehead was wrinkled in alarm. He followed her gaze and immediately realized what had drawn her attention. A swarm of insects was covering the grassy portion of a landscaped parking median and moving in a thick stream across the pavement.

"What the hell is that?" he asked as he shone his flashlight for a better look.

"Oh, Booth… They're fire ants. Just like the book," she replied, feeling nauseated.

"The third body," they said in unison. Booth's flashlight beam followed the trail of ants toward a dumpster enclosure, and Brennan approached it cautiously.

"Careful, Booth. Don't let them get on you," she warned. They stepped gingerly around the insects and opened the doors of the enclosure. There was indeed another body, and this one was covered by the swarm of fire ants.

"Whoa," Booth murmured, recognizing the victim almost immediately. Brennan cringed in horror at the fear in the woman's frozen expression.

"Oh God. It's Ellen."

Booth pulled her away from the structure and the swarm of ants, fishing his phone out of his pocket to speed dial the Bureau. Brennan vaguely registered his words as he spoke to whichever junior agent had picked up the phone in the bullpen, but her mind was already running through the case details, searching for a connection.

Booth insisted upon canceling the book signing, and Brennan didn't bother trying to talk him out of it. Within an hour, the crowd of fans had been dispersed by local police, and forensic techs from the FBI as well as the Jeffersonian had arrived to process the scene. Hodgins wielded a flamethrower with a gleeful expression, clearing the terrain of fire ants and singeing everything in his path. Recovering the body was a painstakingly slow and cautious process, and for once, Brennan primarily remained on the sidelines so that Hodgins could do his job without interference.

"You okay, Bones?"

"Yes," she replied, her tone as somber and quiet as his. She knew why he was asking and went on to say, "I can't analyze anything until the ants are gone, so it's best if I just wait for Hodgins to handle things."

Booth nodded but kept silent, knowing that there was more to her troubled expression than the inability to examine the remains. They watched together as the body was enclosed in a pod of sorts and the rest of the ants were obliterated, and Hodgins told them that he would continue the fire ant removal at the lab.

"It's late, Bones. Let's go home and get some sleep. You know it'll probably take him hours to clear all of those ants."

Brennan agreed distractedly and allowed him to escort her back to the SUV. She slept fitfully that night, her brilliant mind refusing to slow down long enough for her to sleep for more than an hour at a time.

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Brennan was on the phone with her publisher first thing the next morning, requesting that the book be pulled from the shelves, but she was told that the terms of her contract prevented them from doing that. The woman she spoke to actually had the temerity to point out that sales had _increased_ steadily since the first body had been found. Brennan hung up on her in disgust.

Booth dropped her off at the lab on his way to the Hoover, and Hank Beldin was waiting to be questioned when he arrived. Sully caught Booth before he entered the interrogation room and told him that a connection had been discovered between two of the victims. Ellen Laskow had been acquainted with Sadie Keller's husband, at least well enough to contact him by phone. The evidence had been found on Ellen's Blackberry.

Booth questioned Hank briefly, feeling slightly uncomfortable at the smaller man's emotional state. If Booth were to judge by what he'd seen of the interactions between Hank and Ellen, he wouldn't have expected Hank to be so overcome Ellen's death. He did note, however, that for all of Hank's histrionics, not a single tear escaped the man's eyes. Hank claimed not to have been aware of any connection between Ellen and the other victims, but he promised to look through his notes for something that might connect them. He also revealed that Ellen had been a lesbian but had been very secretive about it.

Brennan, meanwhile, was in the Bone Room, recapitulating the evidence in an effort to determine how the victims were connected. Zack had ruled that the bullet they'd recovered from Ellen's cervical spine was a match for the weapon that had been used in the other two murders. The glass tape was also the same.

"So why are all the attacks different?" Brennan mused, stepping up to a table upon which lay the skeletal remains of Jim Lopata. "The first victim, Jim Lopata, shows signs of a physical attack before he was shot. And look at the angle of the gunshot," she added pointing to the hole in the victim's frontal bone.

"Through the forehead, execution style," Cam said, watching Brennan cross over to the second set of remains.

"And the second victim, Sadie Keller, shows absolutely no sign of struggle. As if she were drugged."

"Well the toxicology screen came back negative," Cam reminded her. Zack spoke up and added that the gunshot to the second body had been straight through the heart, as if the killer hadn't wanted to see something so gruesome as a shot to the head.

"And Ellen was shot at close range in the back of the neck," Brennan said with a light of discovery dawning on her features.

"I've never seen a pattern like that," Cam mused, wondering where Brennan's logic had taken her.

"I don't think it _is_ a pattern. I think there were three separate killers."

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Brennan felt slightly better about the situation when she called Booth to explain her theory. It was as though the act of saying the words aloud had brought her clarity and a modicum of peace. Booth belatedly recalled the fact that Hank had been in possession of Ellen's cell phone, indicating that it was more likely that Hank was the one who knew Ashton Keller.

Booth entered the lab a short while later and found Brennan and Hodgins discussing the case at one of the work stations on the main level. He listened to Hodgins explain his findings, waiting for his turn to voice his suspicions about Hank Beldin. Hodgins had tracked down the quarry that had produced the sand he'd found on the tape from the first victim. The sand had been specifically marketed to country clubs for their golf courses.

"Alright, Bones. You're right. We're dealing with three separate killers, and somehow they all know each other. They're using your book to make it look like one person."

"You sound like you have theories," Brennan replied curiously.

"Right, motive. Victim number one was beating his wife, second victim left her money to her lazy-ass husband-"

"Ellen was hated by Hank, who was also next in line for her job," Hodgins interjected.

"Hey," Booth said with a grin, drawing the word out. "Good work, Hodgins."

"Thanks," he beamed.

"So…our suspects agreed to kill for each other so they'd each have an alibi?" Brennan surmised. Booth gave her a smile of approval.

"All I need from you guys is proof, okay?" he said, as though he were requesting something as simple as a weather forecast.

"Oh. Oh, is that all?" Hodgins smirked.

"Wait, _sand_ ," Brennan said, skipping ahead of them. "Didn't you say that Ashton Keller was a big golfer?"

Booth nodded and said that Keller was a patron of Rockville Country Club. Hodgins checked his list and announced that it was the only country club in Maryland that got its sand from the quarry he'd tracked down.

"Okay, so if Ashton killed Jim, that would mean that Hank killed Sadie. What do we know about Hank?" Booth mused aloud.

"Not much," Brennan shrugged. "Hard-working, smart, diabet- _diabetic_. That's it!"

Brennan trotted off toward the autopsy room yelling for Cam, and Booth followed closely behind, uncertain as to what had gotten his partner so excited. Brennan exchanged a few words with Cam, but Booth had a hard time following their terminology.

"The killer injected Sadie with an excessive amount of insulin to render her unconscious," Cam explained. "Being a diabetic, Hank would have easy access to insulin, and it wouldn't show up on a tox screen because it occurs naturally in the body."

"Okay… what about the third body? Ellen's?" Booth asked.

Ellen's body was currently resting on Cam's autopsy table. Cam explained that she'd been in the process of examining the remains with a reflective ultraviolet lens, since the ants had decimated so much of the soft tissue. She and Brennan hovered over the body with the UV lens while Booth took a call on his cell. Brennan listened to his side of the conversation with only a fraction of her attention, focusing on the bruising patterns that were now visible on Ellen's arms and neck. The pattern was unique on the right forearm.

"Sully got confirmation of the connection between the killers," Booth announced, snapping his phone shut.

"Which is?" Cam encouraged.

"The Brennanite chat room that Oliver mentioned… The FBI tech squad traced the screen names. Greg Braley, Ashton Keller, Hank Beldin-they're all members," Booth said. Brennan pursed her lips and nodded, pointing to the bruising on the victim's right arm.

"Look. Syndactyly. We can link Greg Braley to Ellen Laskow's death."

"All three murders," Cam sighed. "Each one linked forensically to one of three suspects. Not bad." She paused, glancing across the table at her friend. "What are you waiting for, Booth? Go get the bad guys."

Booth grinned and turned to leave, but Brennan stopped him just outside the door to Cam's office. When he turned back to face her, he was startled by a quick but fervent kiss, and he smiled in approval. Booth told her that he would be back as soon as the suspects were in custody.

When he returned to the lab, he found Brennan on her couch, getting a head start on the post-case paperwork. Booth spotted a copy of her novel on her desk and picked it up before joining her.

"Let me tell you something, Bones. The sales of your book are gonna skyrocket after this."

"The only problem is that our ending is a lot better than the one I wrote in the book," she smirked.

"What? Are you kidding me? You and me in the back of the AMG?"

"Kathy and Andy, you mean?"

"That's not how I pictured it," he countered, his eyes gleaming provocatively.

"I guess we could always end this case with car sex," Brennan shrugged, still smiling. "Although, Angela did actually tell me about a certain storage closet…"

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Booth and Brennan decided to take an overnight trip to Philadelphia with Parker the following weekend. A visit to Hank's retirement home was first on the agenda, and they intended to make use of Booth's season passes at the Flyers' game on Saturday evening. It wasn't the first time that Brennan had experienced a long car ride with Parker, but she noted that he seemed to be even more loquacious than usual.

"...And then Josh pushed Emma off the swing and made her fall in the mud! I helped her get up, and then we told the teacher. Josh had to go to the refocus table for the _rest of the day_!"

"Was Emma okay?" Brennan asked, glancing at Booth with a tiny smile. A year ago, she would've had to ask what on earth a 'refocus table' was, but she was now fully versed in Kindergarten terminology.

"Yeah, her clothes were all muddy," Parker replied, "but I helped her wipe them off."

"That was very nice of you, Parker," Brennan told him.

"Yes, it was," Booth agreed. "Good job, buddy."

"Thanks. Emma's really nice." Booth glanced in the rearview at his son and gave Brennan a ' _Watch This'_ smile.

"Which Emma was it?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"The pretty one with the blue eyes and curly brown hair. Emma K. _Not_ Emma C; she's mean."

"Blue eyes and curly brown hair, huh?" Booth winked at his girlfriend. Brennan rolled her eyes indulgently from the passenger seat but said nothing. "You have to admit, Bones… The kid's got good taste."

"Hmm. What was it you said about boys always wanting to save the damsel in distress?"

"Yeah, well he comes by it honestly," Booth smirked, glancing in his rearview at his son again. Parker was still chattering away about Emma, but he'd moved on to her favorite color.

"...And her brother Ethan is on my T-ball team too, remember Daddy? Their mom is the one who always says she likes your shirt."

Booth inhaled a bit of his own saliva and lapsed into a fit of coughing. Brennan looked at him with her eyebrows raised, highly amused.

"Which shirt, Parker?" she asked, enjoying the dark flush of embarrassment in Booth's cheeks.

"All of them, I guess," Parker shrugged innocently. "He always wears different ones."

"Okay, Parker, why don't you read your book for a little while, huh?" Booth suggested, recovered from his sputtering. Parker nodded and reached for the library book he'd brought along for the ride.

"So Emma's mom likes your shirts?" Brennan teased.

"I didn't realize Parker had ever heard her talk to me," he admitted, still red in the face. "She's not really inappropriate, she just…"

"Likes your shirts," she supplied. Booth shook his head and chuckled, reaching over to pull her hand to his lips.

"At least you know you're the only one who sees what's underneath, baby."

Brennan smiled back happily and returned her eyes to the road, thinking that perhaps she would make more of an effort to attend all of Parker's games in the future.

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They spent an enjoyable afternoon with Hank, who seemed to enjoy showing Parker off to his female friends at the retirement community. He took the boy for a walk down the long hallways, stopping every so often at the apartments of his 'lady friends.' Booth watched in amusement as his grandfather _and_ son worked the Booth charm on nearly every little old lady who crossed their path.

"It's almost like he's blackmailing for candy again," Brennan observed, shaking her head as Parker received his fourth cookie from one of Hank's friends.

" _Trick-or-treating_ , Bones. And yeah, there are definite similarities."

"Hank looks pleased," she noted. "Perhaps he's hoping for a new crochet partner."

" _Bones!"_ Booth admonished, looking as though he wanted to hold his hands over his ears like a toddler. "I don't want to think about that."

"Sorry," she giggled, looking anything but apologetic. They fell silent for a few moments before she changed the subject. "Are you sure Hank doesn't want to come to the game with us tonight? I'd be happy to buy him an extra ticket."

"Nah, he said he had something to do. They keep him pretty busy here."

"Maybe he has a date," Brennan guessed. "Or a...um...crochet club meeting." Booth's face contorted in disgust.

"Stop. Just stop."

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"Bones, are you sure we can actually get into this place?" Booth asked, gazing around furtively at the well-dressed patrons of Carly's Table. He had agreed to try the restaurant when Brennan had brought it up earlier in the week, but he hadn't realized that she'd been referring to such an upscale place. _They've probably got a three-month waiting list,_ he thought with a frown.

"Yes, when I called the other day and gave them my name, they said it would be no problem to accommodate us," she shrugged.

Booth sighed, feeling the familiar discomfort that always reared its head when Brennan's fame allowed them any sort of privilege. He had to admit that the place was impressive, however. It was decorated in a trendy, down-to-earth style, and from what he could see of the tables they passed as they followed the hostess, the food was presented attractively. The plates all looked as though they could be entered into a cooking contest. A quick glance at the menu had him frowning again, however. _No prices listed_ , he mused, not all that surprised.

On the rare occasions that Brennan did spend any of her money, she tended to have good taste. Be it with cars, restaurants, or gifts, she certainly didn't balk at expense. She only disagreed with spending money when there was no true purpose; as in all things, she was nothing if not logical. Booth did his best to shake off the unsettling feeling of being out of his element and decided to focus on her instead.

She sat across the table from him looking beautiful as always, biting her bottom lip slightly as she deliberated over her menu. She was pleasant with the waiter, who was slightly _too_ pleasant in return, but Booth did his best not to scowl at the man. Brennan opted to try the macaroni and cheese, which was rumored to be particularly delicious.

"You're gonna come to a place like this and get _mac-n-cheese_?" Booth teased, smiling at her tenderly.

"It's supposed to be really good," she defended. "Why, what are you getting?"

"I'm going with the Kobe strip steak. A man needs his red meat," Booth said, loving the way her nose wrinkled slightly when she thought about meat.

"Did you know that the cattle which produce that type of steak-"

" _No,_ Bones. I don't know, and that's fine with me. All I need to know is that it'll taste amazing." He held up a hand to put a stop to her attempt to educate him, and she rolled her eyes.

"They're fed beer during the summer months," she continued in spite of his interruption.

" _Beer?_ Seriously?"

Brennan nodded and launched into a lengthy description of Japanese cattle-raising techniques, and Booth grumbled inwardly at himself for taking the bait. He was relieved when their food arrived, and his steak was indeed fantastic. However, when Brennan offered a bite of her mac-n-cheese, Booth nearly found himself regretting his choice of entree. _Holy shit, that's good_ , he mused. She smiled knowingly, as though she could read his mind, and he grinned indulgently back at her.

They were nearly finished with their meals when a petite, dark-haired woman appeared next to their table. She greeted them warmly and introduced herself as Carly Victor, the lead chef and owner of the restaurant. Carly had a vibrant, infectious sort of personality, and soon she and Brennan were in deep discussion about the culinary arts. Brennan expressed an interest in learning more, and Carly not only slipped her a pre-release copy of her new cookbook but also offered to give her a few lessons sometime. The two women exchanged business cards, and Brennan happily obliged Carly's request to sign her copy of _Red Tape, White Bones_.

When Brennan handed the book back to her, Carly's eyes lit upon Booth with the sudden realization that he must be 'Agent Andy.' Booth flushed a little but grinned smugly at Brennan as he confirmed it, his eyes daring her to contradict him.

Her blue eyes sparkled back at him, and she held her tongue.

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"Your feet have been bothering you today. You should sit in the hot tub for a while tonight," Brennan suggested as they hung their jackets in the coat closet at home. Booth hadn't said a word about his feet, but he didn't need to ask how she knew they were hurting.

"Only if you come with me," he replied, grinning libidinously. "Bathing suits not required."

Brennan smiled back and nodded, heading to the bathroom to retrieve a couple of towels. Booth had stripped down to his boxers by the time she returned, and she couldn't help but chuckle at his eagerness. He took the towels from her and set them near the back door before helping her to remove her clothing.

"Come on," she insisted, swatting his hands away when they came into contact with her bare breasts. "If you start that now, we'll never make it to the hot tub." Booth pouted slightly but obeyed, removing his boxers and grabbing their towels before heading outside.

"Have I mentioned how much I love the privacy we have in the back yard?"

"Several times," she replied. "I agree though. This would be tricky if we had neighbors close enough to see anything."

Booth pressed a few buttons on the control panel to start the jets, and the hot tub began to make a rather comforting hum. He helped Brennan into the water and settled into his favorite seat. They were silent for a while, allowing their bodies to adjust to the high temperature and enjoying the peaceful quiet of their secluded little oasis.

Spring hadn't quite begun yet, but the weather was quite a bit warmer than the first time they'd tried out his birthday gift. Booth had been skeptical at her suggestion that they use the hot tub when it had been cold enough to snow, but his concerns had been proven unnecessary. The water was so hot and produced so much steam that he really hadn't felt the cold air at all. So long as he remembered to wear his sandals to avoid the cold concrete when he got out, it worked just fine. Booth frowned at the thought, realizing that he hadn't brought his sandals out, but a quick glance at the over the edge of the hot tub reassured him. Brennan had set them on the small staircase before getting in. He smiled at her thoughtfulness and reached for her, pulling her through the swirling water until she was straddling his thighs.

She moaned in appreciation, curling up against his chest. Booth's hands roamed her body freely, and his own body responded immediately. Brennan grinned up at him, feeling his arousal beneath her, and he bent his head to capture her lips. She marveled at the way his kisses still had the ability to make her ache with longing for him. After over a year together, they were still every bit as passionate and intoxicating as their first kiss had been. She couldn't imagine ever feeling as though she'd had enough of him.

Brennan's arms encircled his neck as his lips continued to dance with hers. Their tongues brushed against one another, taking turns flitting back and forth between their lips, and Brennan gasped when she felt his large hand cupping her firmly. His fingers slipped a little lower, teasing her clit beneath the surface of the water, and Brennan dragged her mouth from his, desperate for oxygen.

Her head fell back with a moan of satisfaction as his fingers slid between her folds, and Booth took the advantage of the opportunity to taste the skin of her exposed neck. He nibbled and kissed his way to her chest, eliciting a husky cry of pleasure when he seized a hardened peak and sucked hard. Brennan's fingers wove into his hair, clutching his head closer, and she felt her climax approaching quickly. She rocked her hips rhythmically, grinding against his hand until the waves of pleasure overtook her.

Before the spasms had passed, Booth sheathed himself within her quickly, and she cried out again at the exquisite feeling of fullness. His hands settled on her hips, gripping them firmly as he began to move. The buoyancy created by the water required him to work a bit harder than usual, but the heat more than made up for the loss of gravity. The temperature of the water was typically several degrees higher than her body temperature, but they'd been in the hot tub for a while. _She_ was hot, and the sensation was intense.

Booth knew that it wouldn't take long for him, and he was determined to give her another orgasm before they finished. He tilted his head away from her slightly so that he could see her face and simultaneously slid one hand around her hip to rest between her buttocks. His middle finger teased her other entrance slightly, and she met his heated gaze in surprise. He lifted one brow in question, and she nodded before their lips connected once more. Booth's hips continued to thrust against her as he gently pressed the tip of his finger into her.

Brennan's response was immediate. She broke the kiss with a cry of passion that would've alerted the neighbors if there had been any near enough to hear. Her eyes opened and locked with his, and he grew even harder to see his favorite shade of blue shining back at him through the haze of her desire. Within seconds, she was coming almost violently around him, and she shouted his name into the crisp, night air.

Booth found his release as well, burying himself to the hilt as he shattered within her. They held each other for several long minutes, enjoying the sensation of the aftershocks that rippled throughout their bodies. Booth slipped carefully from her body and relaxed against the side of the hot tub, drawing deep breaths of cool air into his lungs. Brennan rested her chin on his shoulder, feeling limp and weightless with exhaustion.

"Wow," she murmured against his neck.

"I'll say." Booth hadn't been sure of her reaction to his silent request for another 'first,' but Brennan was an eager lover who was generally more than willing to try new things. Her nod of assent hadn't really surprised him, but the intensity of her reaction sure as hell had.

"That was…different," she said, echoing his thoughts.

" _Good_ different?"

"Definitely," she giggled. "I should've thought that much was obvious." Booth grinned into her damp hair and kissed her cheek tenderly.

"Just checking."

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 **Whew. Reviews make me happy! See you Saturday.**


	29. Chapter 29

**Welcome back! Thanks as always for the wonderful feedback. It really does keep me motivated to keep writing. This is a LONG story to tell, even in three separate parts, and it's not easy to post so often, but I know that the frequent updates are appreciated. I'm doing my very best not to burn out. :)**

 **We've got a tiny time jump in the beginning of this chapter, but I don't think anyone will particularly mind.**

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Chapter 29

The next few weeks seemed to pass with remarkable speed. The day after their sojourn in the hot tub, Booth and Brennan were called to a body dump site for a set of remains that were almost completely boneless. The victim had been boiled, had her bones removed, and had been sewn up with the organs still inside. Only one bone remained: a patella.

Their investigation led them down a rabbit-hole of Chinese death rituals, stolen Asian artifacts, and mail-order bride arrangements. The victim was identified as a Chinese immigrant who had traveled to the US as the intended bride of an American man. The relationship hadn't worked out, however, and when the woman in charge of the matchmaking service had been forced to issue a refund, she'd found a disturbing way to recoup the money. She had killed the young woman and sold her bones to a Chinese family for the purposes of a Ming Huang ritual. The family had intended to bury her bones with those of the son they had lost so that the two deceased individuals would be married in the afterlife.

Booth experienced the usual sensation of accomplishment after closing the case, but his satisfaction increased greatly at the news that Sully had decided to quit his job at the FBI and take off on his newly acquired boat. Booth had never felt threatened by his presence, but he'd certainly been more than a little annoyed with the way Sully always seemed to be watching Brennan. He'd caught the guy staring at her ass more times than he could count.

Sully made a sort of backhanded comment before he left, implying that solving murders is noble but that it shouldn't be someone's 'whole life.' Booth opened his mouth to deliver a sarcastic retort, but Brennan beat him to the punch.

"That's not our 'whole life' by any means," she disagreed with a frown. "It's only one part. We have our jobs and our partnership, but we also have our romantic relationship and a family."

Booth smiled in agreement and kissed her soundly with complete disregard to Sully's presence. When at last they pulled apart, Sully's face was a comical mix of discomfort and disappointment, and Booth wasn't sorry to see him go.

Their next case proved to be a bit difficult, particularly for Booth. A water main had ruptured beneath the cemetery of a Catholic church, creating a muddy mess of disinterred coffins and ruined headstones. The Jeffersonian was contracted to match the remains with the church records, and the team came across a body that hadn't been in a casket. The victim was identified as a priest who had disappeared several years ago.

The investigation proceeded in the typical way, but Booth was highly uncomfortable with the way Brennan spoke to the other priests and staff at the church. In all reality, she wasn't being rude or intentionally offensive, but religion was an area in which Booth had always been a little sensitive. As much as he knew that Brennan was just being herself, it was difficult for him to conceal his irritation with her methods.

In an effort to help Brennan understand his perspective, he suggested that they have lunch with Dr. Wyatt. Booth knew that Gordon Gordon wouldn't take offense to Brennan's disparaging opinion of psychology. Brennan hadn't met him yet, and although she was curious about Dr. Wyatt, she didn't feel that a consultation was truly necessary.

After the introductions were made, the three sat at Booth and Brennan's usual table at the diner, and Booth explained that he felt a few of Brennan's comments about the Christian faith had been judgmental.

"Booth, I don't have to agree with your beliefs in order to respect them. Your faith is a big part of who you are, and I _love_ who you are. I wouldn't change any of it," Brennan insisted. Booth smiled reluctantly.

"I don't want to change you either, Bones. I don't mind that you don't share my beliefs, I just…" he trailed off, feeling as though he was navigating a minefield. "I wish you would try to be more respectful of the beliefs of others when we're working."

"Agent Booth," Dr. Wyatt interrupted. "Do you recall the case you had last month involving a wealthy man who had been murdered in his home? You called him entitled, I believe."

"Yeah… What's that got to do with this?"

"You told me that Dr. Brennan felt you were being overly judgmental of wealthy people, yes? And, in reality, she was quite right. You admitted as much before it was all over." He paused as Booth gave a shrug of acknowledgment. "You needed to adjust your behavior in order to do your job effectively, even if you didn't necessarily adjust your opinions." Dr. Wyatt was wearing his enigmatic smile, and Brennan was speeding ahead, following his logic through to its conclusion.

"So you're suggesting that I alter my behavior in the same way?" she asked the psychiatrist.

"Precisely," he replied, and Booth nodded in agreement.

Brennan was silent for a moment, thinking back over her interactions with the people who were involved in their current case. As an anthropologist, she was certainly capable of withholding her own opinion when in the field. She hadn't meant to offend anyone, least of all Booth, and the last thing she wanted was to hurt his feelings. She understood his need for tolerance, but in this particular situation, she felt he was being just a little over-sensitive.

"I can do that," she promised, shifting her eyes to Booth. "But Booth… This particular case involves priests and church cemeteries. There is a good chance that religion will be a major element of the investigation, and my being wary of a suspect who happens to be religious doesn't mean that I disrespect anyone's beliefs. It means that I'm trying to catch a killer. Same as you."

Dr. Wyatt smiled at her reasoning and sat back to observe them. To him, this disagreement seemed to be as much about their relationship as their partnership, and he felt an academic interest in learning how Booth and Brennan managed to find balance between the two.

"I admit that I don't always say things correctly or read people accurately," Brennan continued. "So I may accidentally say something offensive, but it's never my intention." Booth frowned in displeasure at her self-deprecating remark, and he turned sideways in his chair to gain her full attention. He placed one hand over hers on the table and lifted the other to her face, forcing her to make eye contact and forgetting about Dr. Wyatt altogether.

"Hey. Don't put yourself down like that. You do your best, and I know that. And… I like that you don't always say the right thing," he admitted with an indulgent smile. "It's actually one of the things I love most about you. You're genuine. And you're right about this case. There's a good chance the killer is affiliated with the Church, so… getting under their skin isn't a bad idea."

"You're the one who taught me that," she reminded him, smiling gently.

"I know. I shouldn't have let it get to me."

Dr. Wyatt watched them approvingly for a moment before excusing himself, offering his services should they ever need them in the future. Booth looked up to thank him, but Brennan's eyes remained focused on her partner. Dr. Wyatt left the diner and watched them through the window as he waited for a cab. They smiled at each other and exchanged words he couldn't hear before sharing a slow, gentle kiss.

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Less than a week after a church employee had confessed to the murder of the priest, Booth and Brennan were called to a federal flood abatement project in Baltimore. During a police training exercise, a cadaver dog had discerned the presence of human remains beneath the concrete. They'd received the call before leaving home that morning, so the drive was a bit shorter than it would have been had they already started their workdays.

"Angela wants to drag me out to the cemetery today," Brennan complained. "It seems _someone_ told her that it's my mom's birthday today. She won't let it go."

Booth had the good grace to look apologetic, but she was well aware of his opinion on the subject. Discussion of her family had been off limits for the most part since Max and Russ had disappeared, but Booth thought that a visit to the cemetery might give her a little peace of mind. The fact that it was her mother's birthday was the perfect opportunity.

"Maybe she's right," Booth said cautiously. "I mean, it can't hurt, you know?" Brennan said nothing but clenched her jaw in disapproval.

"If I agree to go to the cemetery, will you agree to go to the dentist?" she challenged. Booth had woken up with a toothache that morning, and he'd refused to even let her look at it.

"Yeah, I will… if it doesn't get any better."

"Are you afraid of the dentist?"

"Of course not."

"It's a very common phobia-"

"I'm not afraid of the dentist, Bones. I just… don't like to go there."

Brennan shook her head and sighed ruefully, happy to get out of the SUV when at last they reached the crime scene. A police officer greeted them as they approached the roped off area and explained the situation. The recovery teams had managed to dig a small hole through the concrete until they reached the remains, but unfortunately, only part of the skull was visible. Brennan couldn't see enough to determine anything about the remains, so she requested that the slab of concrete be sent to the Jeffersonian. Unearthing the remains would be a delicate and lengthy process, and it would be far safer to do so in a controlled environment.

Booth grumbled at the realization that they'd driven nearly an hour simply to have to turn around and go back, but Brennan didn't mind.

"You should call your dentist on the way back," she suggested, watching him wince and touch his jaw gingerly.

"I'll be fine," he muttered. "Since it will take so long to get the bones out of that concrete, you'll have time to go to the cemetery."

Brennan frowned and released a sigh of defeat. Apparently Angela wasn't the only one who wasn't going to let it go.

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"I'm really not good at this sort of thing, you know?" Brennan sighed and gazed down at the headstone. "I don't get the significance."

"It's her birthday," Angela said, her voice soft and kind. "You're marking the occasion." Brennan knew that this was one of those occasions in which she was being asked to 'do what normal people do,' but she felt completely out of her element. She'd tried this before, with Booth standing at her side rather than Angela, and it hadn't been any easier then.

"Angela… I simply don't believe my mother retained sentience beyond death."

"Well, part of you is made up of your mother, right?"

"In a manner of speaking," Brennan smiled, deciding not to point out what a gross over-simplification it was.

"So… Honor that part of yourself. Visualize a memory of her; see what it brings up," Angela encouraged.

"I have very few distinct memories of my mother," Brennan argued sadly. Angela shrugged and told her that she would wait in the car, leaving Brennan alone with her thoughts.

There were small details about her childhood that she could recall easily; most were happy but fairly insignificant. So many of her childhood memories had been suppressed during a time when looking back had been too painful. Her experiences in the system had been hard enough without dwelling on the things she'd lost.

Brennan closed her eyes reluctantly, trying to remember something about her mother that was less painful than their last argument and less trivial than the type of ice cream she bought. After only a few moments, however, she was startled by the sound of a familiar voice from behind her.

"Hiya, honey," Max greeted her with a smile. He was dressed in black and wore a pair of aviator sunglasses, strolling toward her as though he hadn't left her handcuffed to a park bench the last time she'd seen him. "I was hoping you might show up."

"I don't… I don't want to talk to you," she replied, pulling her cell phone from her pocket to call the Bureau. He ignored her and stepped closer.

"You're standing here in front of your mother's grave… Obviously, you've come for some kind of answer. Maybe I can provide it," he suggested.

Brennan listened to the phone ringing on the other end of the line as her mind reeled at his invitation. He thought she was there for _answers_? Did he know her at all? She certainly did have questions she'd have liked to ask. Like _Where the hell have you been?_

"You're a killer. You _burn_ people," she said soberly. Max's face fell as Brennan turned her attention back to her phone call and explained to whomever had answered that she had spotted him, 'a wanted fugitive' at the cemetery. He gazed at her sadly for a moment before sighing in defeat.

"I love you," he whispered gently, his eyes meeting hers through the colored lenses of his sunglasses. She looked back at him incredulously and watched him walk away, weaving his way through the headstones until he had disappeared behind a copse of trees.

"Yes, I'm sure," Brennan answered the agent on the phone. "...Because he's my father."

Angela drove them back to the lab after Brennan finished her phone call, and a final glance over the cemetery grounds revealed no trace of Max. Brennan was silent, ignoring the frequent worried glances from her friend as she thought about what her father had said. His parting words to her were 'I love you,' just as the last time she'd seen him. If he hadn't run off again four months ago, she might have been tempted to believe it.

And where was Russ? Her brother had disappeared with Max last December, leaving his family at Christmas in much the same way he himself had been abandoned. Russ hadn't been with Max today, however, and Brennan hoped that his absence didn't mean he'd been hurt…or worse. Max had looked disappointed when she'd called to turn him in, and Brennan didn't know what sort of reaction he'd been expecting from her. She was a law-abiding citizen who worked with the FBI. She was obligated to assist in the apprehension of a criminal, even if said criminal happened to be her father.

Brennan's phone buzzed with an incoming text, and she frowned as she read the message.

 _:You saw your dad? Why didn't you call me?_

She sighed, rolling her eyes at Booth's question, and texted back that he could meet her at the lab shortly.

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Booth was still rubbing his jaw every few seconds when he came through the sliding glass doors of the lab a short while later. He spotted Brennan walking toward the platform and fell into step beside her.

"Why did you call the Bureau instead of me?" he asked, trying not to sound offended.

"Well, I _hoped_ that you'd taken my advice and gone to the dentist," Brennan replied, glancing at his pained expression. "Clearly that's not the case. If you don't do it soon, I'll make the call myself."

"I _will_ … if it doesn't get any better," he dodged, his eyes narrowing at the implied threat. "So did you talk to your dad at all before you called the Bureau?"

"No. Why would I?" She kept her tone even and her expression neutral, and Booth sighed at her stubbornness.

"Well, I mean… I haven't seen my dad in a long time, and if I had the opportunity to talk…" Booth trailed off with another wince, massaging his jaw reflexively.

"Go to the dentist," she ordered, sighing at _his_ stubbornness.

Zach was on the platform ready to give his preliminary findings. The remains weren't completely free from the concrete yet, but he'd already been able to determine demographics and cause of death. The victim was a middle-aged man who had been dead for approximately three years. Cause of death appeared to be sharp force trauma to the skull by means of something like a screwdriver or ice pick. Booth made a quick phone call to the Bureau to request a record search for all murders which involved a similar wound.

"Listen, I'm probably going to be late getting home tonight. I've got a late meeting with Cullen. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?"

"Sure," Brennan shrugged. "Removing the bones from the concrete will take a while, so you might still beat me home."

Brennan managed to leave the lab earlier than she expected, and a short text from Booth told her that he wouldn't be far behind. She came in from the garage and punched the entry code into the security keypad. Her attention was focused on the stack of mail in her hands, and she didn't immediately notice that the keypad didn't give its usual _beep_ of recognition.

"Don't freak out," Max's warned from behind her. Brennan let out a small cry of shock and whirled to face him, her heart pounding at a sudden rush of adrenaline.

"You broke into my house? _Again?_ That is not acceptable." She fished her cell from her pocket and pressed the speed dial for Booth.

"This little device here," he said, holding up a tiny black object, "it jams cell phone frequencies." He clicked a button on the device and her phone immediately began to emit a loud white noise in her ear. She pressed the _End_ button in frustration. "Besides, it wasn't me who broke in last time."

" _That_ is illegal," she spat, glaring at the frequency jammer and ignoring the rest of his statement. It didn't really matter to her whether it had been Max or Kirby who'd broken in last time; either way, her father had still turned her home into a crime scene.

"Unfortunately, 'illegal' is what I do best. I'm not staying," Max assured her, already walking toward the front door. "I just want you to do something for me. I want you to look at my rap sheet."

"Why?"

" _Why?"_ he echoed irritably. "Because I want a chance to talk to you... _actually talk to you_...without you calling in the 82nd Airborne."

 _75th Ranger Regiment,_ Brennan corrected him silently.

"How is reading your police report going to change my mind?" she demanded, but he was already leaving.

"Just do it."

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Booth arrived home, hungry and carrying hot Chinese takeout, only to find his very agitated girlfriend pacing the living room floor. She quickly explained what had happened, and Booth shared her frustration over the fact that Max had broken into their home. He'd apparently found a way to decipher the pass code for the alarm system, and Booth made a mental note to change it before they went to bed.

"He said he wants me to read his rap sheet," Brennan grumbled, stabbing her fork into her dumpling as though it had insulted her.

Booth paused in the midst of his very careful chewing to consider Max's request. He knew why Brennan's father had asked her to do that, and Booth inwardly agreed that it wasn't a bad idea.

"I can get the police record and bring it to the lab tomorrow," he volunteered. "I think he probably just wants you to know that he never killed anyone who didn't… you know...deserve it." Booth mumbled the last two words, sensing that Brennan would disagree, but to his surprise, she remained silent.

"I don't want to talk about him. Did you learn anything new about the case this afternoon?" Brennan traded her potstickers for a lettuce wrap, and Booth sighed in acceptance of the change of subject. He handed her the file he'd brought home and showed her the photographs and information he'd come across.

"I think our victim was killed by Ice Pick," he said, holding up a picture of a man with short gray hair. Booth held up another photo of a younger man as he continued, "Angela did a facial reconstruction of Cement Head."

"'Concrete Head,' you mean."

"No, 'Cement Head.' It's got a nicer ring. So I ran it through Interplus and got a match." He flipped to the report and handed it to her.

"William Raymond 'Billy Ray' McKenna, West Virginia. Assault, manslaughter, kidnapping, torture…" She scowled in disgust as she read the file aloud. Booth held up the picture of 'Ice Pick' again.

"This here is, uh...Hugh Kennedy. I think he killed Cement Head."

"Why?"

"Well, West Virginia… Likes to use ice picks on his victims plus Ice Pick and Cement Head were both employed by a regional crime boss from West Virginia named Gallagher." Booth held up a third picture of a heavy-set man with longer, wavy hair.

"Well, what are we gonna call him?"

"...Gallager," Booth shrugged. "What? He runs most of the, uh… prostitutes, strippers, gambling, bootlegging, meth, and extortion in West Virginia." Brennan nodded and looked back at the file.

"Five years ago, the West Virginia State Police began pressuring Gallagher's criminal operation, making lots of arrests."

"Including Ice Pick and Cement Head," Booth agreed. "Cement Head goes to jail. Ice Pick? Out on bail, babe."

"You...say that like it means something."

"Well, I talked to the officer in charge, and he said that Ice Pick wouldn't say anything, so they punished him by letting him out on bail."

"How is bail a punishment?"

"Because it makes Gallagher think that Ice Pick cooperated with the cops," he explained. Brennan still looked confused, and he told her to "Keep reading."

"Half a million dollar bond… Kennedy jumped bail… Hmm, killed in a car accident while fleeing a 'bail fugitive recovery agent?'"

"Bounty hunter," Booth translated.

"Car burned the remains to ashes."

"All they got was a severed leg. They didn't actually get Ice Pick's body."

"So are we going to talk to the bounty hunter?"

"No, _I_ am. _You're_ going to make sure that severed leg actually belonged to Ice Pick."

"Someone kept his leg?" Brennan asked in surprise.

"The severed leg was frozen as evidence."

"So… You think Ice Pick might still be alive," she surmised.

"As a certain sexy scientist I know likes to say, 'Don't jump to conclusions until all the evidence is in.'" He grinned at her, watching as she fought the urge to smile back.

"But if the facts are in, then it's not jumping to conclusions. So I never said that," she joked.

"I never said that the sexy scientist is _you_."

Brennan rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him, gasping in shock a half-second later when his lips were on hers, sucking her tongue into his mouth. They kissed for several long minutes before agreeing that they'd had enough of case-talk for the night.

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Booth met the bounty hunter at the diner the next morning while Brennan and Cam analyzed the frozen leg at the lab. His toothache was even worse than the day before, and he groaned in pain as he attempted to eat a bowl of oatmeal. He was interrupted by the arrival of a tough looking young woman in a leather jacket who dropped noisily into the seat across from him.

She introduced herself as Veleska Miller, the bounty hunter who had tracked down Hugh Kennedy and claimed to have watched his body burn in the car accident. She said that she'd found Kennedy's leg about thirty feet from the blaze. Before Booth could question her much further, Cam called his cell to report that Kennedy's leg had been severed by means of a clean amputation. Booth rose from the table and crossed to the long counter, turning his back to the bounty hunter for a little privacy.

Brennan told him over the speakerphone that there were kerf marks on the bone and advised him to arrest the bounty hunter. Unfortunately, when Booth turned around to look at Veleska Miller, her seat was empty. He glanced out the window to see her speeding away in a classic Mustang, waving at him with a devious grin.

Booth returned to the lab and found Brennan still in the autopsy room with Cam, examining Kennedy's severed leg. They had determined that the amputation had most likely been performed by a livestock veterinarian, and Kennedy's death had actually been faked. After a few moments' discussion, Booth pulled Brennan into her office to discuss Max's rap sheet.

"I got the file on your father, and I was right, Bones. He's never hurt anyone who didn't have it coming to them."

"He's a sociopath," she argued.

"Well...maybe. But at least he was aiming it in the right direction." Booth groaned loudly as his tooth throbbed painfully. He clutched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut involuntarily.

"Let me look at your tooth," Brennan insisted. It was probably the twentieth time she'd asked him to let her have a look, and by this point, Booth was overwhelmed enough by the pain that he couldn't find the energy to argue with her.

"Alright, just...go easy. You promise?"

"Okay," she assured him, hearing the anxiety in his voice. She adapted the gentle tone she often reserved for Parker's tearful moments. "Open up."

She placed her fingertips gently against the side of his jaw as he opened his mouth, but she pulled her hand away almost immediately when he tried to continue speaking.

"What?"

"In the Old West, he would have been considered a hero."

Brennan rolled her eyes and opened his mouth again, and in spite of her best efforts, her movements were a bit less gentle this time.

"Yeah, well, the Old West was a time of chaos and violence that, anthropologically speaking, our country is still trying to recover from." Booth yelled in pain and gripped her shoulders to steady himself. "Yeah, I was right. Anterior molar on the left side. It's infected."

"You know, your father never killed any hard working, tax paying citizens or honest cops," Booth pointed out, cradling his aching jaw in his hand once she'd backed away.

"You still think that society should forgive him?" Her tone was incredulous, and Booth fought the urge to backpedal into safer territory.

"Well, I'm saying that if I have a chance to arrest him, I will. It's my job. But if anyone _should_ forgive him, it's his daughter."

Brennan frowned but was unable to respond before Booth's phone rang from inside his pocket. He fished it out gratefully and exchanged a few words with the junior agent on the other end. When he snapped the phone shut, he told Brennan that Melvin Gallagher was waiting to be interviewed at the Hoover. She followed him out and was silent until they reached the SUV.

"If he was your father, would you forgive him?" Brennan asked hesitantly, not really sure if she wanted the answer.

"I… I don't know, Bones. I'd _try_." He was thoughtful for a moment before continuing. "Look, you know how I am about the law and everything, but he's your dad. No matter what else he is. If it was me… I guess I'd be thankful to have a father who loves me enough to go to so much trouble just to keep me safe."

Brennan's eyes snapped to his still-wincing face and her features softened. It was easy to understand why Booth would feel that way. Brennan felt much the same about Hank; she wished that she'd had a person like him in her life after her parents left. She could see Booth's point about forgiveness, but extending it to her father was easier said than done.

"I'm sorry, Booth," she said quietly, almost in a whisper.

"Hey," he shook his head, forcing a pained smile and squeezing her hand. "You have nothing to be sorry for. There's no wrong way to feel about all of this, Bones. We just do the best we can."

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Melvin Gallagher and his attorney Clark Lightner were seated in the conference room when Booth and Brennan arrived at the Hoover. Unfortunately the conversation was fairly unproductive. Lightner had brought a stack of tax records and employment records which bolstered the legal side of Gallagher's business dealings, and both men were very skilled at dodging Booth's questions with humor and ambiguity.

Brennan arrived home before Booth again that evening, and there was a knock at the front door before she'd even gotten around to removing her shoes. She peeked through the peephole and sighed at the slightly distorted image of Max Keenan on the other side. Brennan unlocked the door and opened it slightly. Max grinned brightly at her and held up a white paper bag.

"Hey T, look. Snickerdoodles! What are y-" She closed the door in his face, but he continued, "Oh, come on. You used to love them when you were a little girl. I've got a message from your brother." Brennan's eyes narrowed, and she opened the door reluctantly.

"What message?"

"Uh… He says hi," Max replied, stepping past her into the house. She shut the door behind him and slipped her hand into her pocket, pressing Booth's speed dial.

"Have you turned Russ into a criminal too?"

"Hey, I haven't committed a crime in over fifteen years. I'm straight," he insisted.

"Except for stabbing my ex in the side of the head," she countered. "Except for killing, gutting, and burning the Deputy Director of the FBI."

"That ex of yours kidnapped and _beat_ you," Max argued, his voice low with anger. "He had you in a trunk ag-" he stopped, trying to compose himself. "Kirby was trying to kill Russ, and then he was going after you. It's not a crime to protect your family."

"Well, some fathers do it without killing," Brennan challenged, maintaining eye contact stubbornly. She vaguely realized that something was off about the words he'd chosen. Or perhaps it was the fact that he'd been looking at the floor rather than her face when he had claimed to have committed no crimes in over a decade. Max pursed his lips, knowing that he didn't have time to argue with her about his past _or_ his present.

"Did you and Booth look at my rap sheet?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He'll arrest you if he has the chance."

"What else?" Max watched her expression shift slightly to remorse, and he nodded sadly. Her silence conveyed more than anything she could have said. "So…these snickerdoodles." He gestured sadly to the paper bag in his hand. "Come on. You don't remember? You loved them as a little girl."

"I don't remember," she shrugged, realizing that it must've been yet another memory she'd pushed away until it had disappeared. Max wasn't giving up, however.

"I'd come home and then you'd be jumping around," he grinned. "You were five or six years old, and you'd say, 'Come on, put on the _Trying_ song. Put on the _Trying_ song.'"

"The ' _Trying_ song?'"

"It was my favorite song. I used to sing it. It was by Poco? The band?" Max was desperate for her to recall at least one happy memory from her childhood, and when her vacant expression persisted, he began to sing the song aloud. " _I've been thinkin' about all the things you told me. I know you're full of doubt, cannot let it be. But I know...if you keep on coming back for more, then I'll keep on trying. Keep on trying…"_

Brennan's eyes welled with tears at the familiar sound of her father's voice. His face was different now, but his voice seemed to reach through the intervening years to soothe her as it had back then. She hadn't remembered it until he started singing, but the memory was clear now. Brennan sighed and looked away, feeling very much like the little girl she'd once been. A little girl who had loved her father, no matter what he was.

"It's a good song," Max said, not sure if she actually remembered it or not. There had been a time that he'd been able to read his daughter like a book, but she'd grown up. And the years he'd missed out on had rarely caused him so much pain as in that very moment.

Brennan crossed to the kitchen counter, feeling the need to put a little more space between herself and her father. Max placed the paper bag of cookies on the counter next to a legal pad that Booth had used earlier that day to illustrate the three-way connection between McKenna, Kennedy, and Gallagher.

"Hugh Kennedy, bad guy," Max announced, reading the names on the paper. "But he's dead. About five years ago in a car crash in West Virginia."

"Recent evidence suggests otherwise. How do you know him?"

"Well he and his ice pick were pretty famous in some circles," he shrugged. "I gotta go."

"Now?"

"Yeah, you speed dialed Booth. Now he's been listening to everything, and the SWAT team's on its way," he said with a wry smile. "I mean, I'm just guessing. But there is something I do want to say to you."

"Mom," she guessed. Her father's graveside offer of 'answers' hadn't been far from her mind.

"It's not about Mom; it's about you. And it's about stuff that she wanted you to know. She never got the chance to tell you…" Max extended a hand to touch Brennan's arm, but she pulled away instinctively.

Her unresolved questions about her mother didn't plague her as much as certain others. Brennan wanted to know how long he'd been following her; to know whether Booth's suspicions were accurate that Max had been keeping tabs on her for _years_. She wanted to know where he'd been and what he'd been doing over the past four months. She wanted to know where her brother was and why he'd abandoned his family without so much as a phone call.

"Hey, Booth," Max said, raising his voice so that it could be picked up easily from the phone in Brennan's pocket. "There are a couple of things you should know about this guy Kennedy. He's got an addiction to model airplanes…" Max picked up the bag of cookies and said, "Try some of these again. You'll love them." He dropped the bag back on the counter and moved purposefully toward the front door.

"Wait, Dad. What's...what's the second thing?" She faltered, realizing she'd slipped from her recent preference for referring to her father by his given name.

"Mmm… He's wily," Max replied anxiously. "You be careful, okay?"

Brennan nodded reluctantly and watched him go before pulling the phone from her pocket. She didn't know what to think or feel at the moment, but hearing Booth's voice was suddenly all she wanted.

"Did you get that?" she asked him sadly.

"Yeah, Bones. Are you alright? I'm stuck in traffic, but I should be there soon." Booth's voice was tense and concerned, and Brennan nodded, momentarily forgetting that he couldn't see her.

"I'm fine," she said weakly. "I'll see you when you get home."

"I love you, Bones."

"I love you too."

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 **So Max is back. Hmm, what's he been up to? I had to change a handful of things with this episode. Since it's only April and she actually buried her mom in May, I made it her birthday instead of the anniversary of the burial. It helped that the birthdate on the headstone is actually April. And in the next chapter, I played with the timeline a bit to make things more cohesive and realistic.**

 **Reviews make me smile...and want to keep writing. :) See you Monday!**


	30. Chapter 30

**Good Monday Morning to you all! Thank you so very much for the reviews and twitter feedback; it really does make my day. I think this chapter should be very well received, and I'm really excited to post it. As I said last time, I did have to adjust the sequence of events for the sake of continuity and logistical practicality. Also, there's no Booth going missing for 18 hours before Brennan does anything, cause that was total crap. JMO. ;)**

 **Please enjoy and review!**

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Chapter 30

Booth headed to Baltimore first thing the next morning to pursue the tip Max had given them on Hugh Kennedy's model airplane fixation. He was able to find the field easily enough, but it took some well-timed suggestions from Zack and Brennan over the speakerphone to help him determine which of the spectators was Kennedy. Once the event had finished, Booth followed Kennedy covertly to a run-down motel, doing his best to keep him in sight as much as possible. The man at the front desk gave Booth Kennedy's room number, but Kennedy must've realized that he'd been tailed.

He surprised Booth from the room across the hall and landed a solid punch to his jaw, dropping the agent in seconds. When Booth regained consciousness, he was rolled up in an area rug, which was bound with duct tape. However, the first thing he noticed was that his mouth didn't hurt anymore. He tongued the area gingerly, tasting blood and feeling a gaping hole where his infected tooth had been. As much as he would've liked to be angry with Kennedy, Booth felt reluctantly grateful to still be alive and no longer in pain.

Kennedy moved around the small room, packing a bag and swiping the ammunition clip from Booth's firearm. When Booth asked why he hadn't killed him, Kennedy replied that he had never killed anyone for fun. It had been his job, and he was now retired. Kennedy shoved a hand towel into Booth's mouth to muffle his voice as well as absorb the blood, and he switched the television on for noise before leaving the room.

Booth lay bound on the floor for over an hour, inwardly cursing his failure to report his location to dispatch before he'd followed Kennedy into the motel. His phone rang multiple times, and he had counted nearly a dozen incoming text alerts. Unfortunately, there was no possible way to retrieve it from his pocket.

When at last someone did enter the room, it wasn't the backup he'd been hoping for. It was Gallagher and his attorney. They had apparently been on Kennedy's trail as well and were more than a little disappointed to find Booth in the room instead. Booth was confused by the turn of events, realizing too late that Gallagher wanted to find Kennedy every bit as much as the Bureau did.

Gallagher slammed Booth's gun into his forehead, and the darkness swallowed him.

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Brennan paced her office nervously, cursing as her tenth call to Booth's cell went to voicemail _again._ She'd left messages, she'd texted him, called him repeatedly… Still there was nothing. It wasn't like Booth to be unavailable or unreachable without prior warning, and Brennan knew instinctively that it could mean nothing good. It had been a few of hours since they'd spoken when he'd been at the model airplane event, and she had assumed that he would call her when he was on his way back to DC. Baltimore was only an hour away, so even if he'd managed to apprehend Kennedy, Booth should have been back by now…

She called Charlie first, hoping that Booth had reported his actions to dispatch under the usual protocol. Brennan's phone call was the first anyone at the Hoover had heard that something might be wrong, and that had worried her even more. She was able to hold off another half hour before calling Cullen directly, and he didn't have any information for her either. She realized that either they couldn't tell her because they didn't know anything, or they _wouldn't_ tell her because something big was happening.

 _Damn it, I'm his partner_ , she thought, stifling the urge to throw her phone across the room. She didn't understand why Cullen didn't sound more concerned. He tried to soothe her and reassure her that Booth was probably just fine. Brennan hung up on him in frustration.

She knew that Booth had been pursuing Kennedy from the airfield, but it wasn't like him to break protocol that way. She'd only seen him fail to call coordinates in to dispatch a handful of times, and each time had been in the midst of a chase. Brennan buried her face in her hands and tried to breathe evenly. It was all she could do to keep her mind off of the worst-case scenario, and she suddenly felt the urge to move, to do _some_ thing productive to find Booth.

Brennan had left messages on his cell, his office phone, and the home phone. She'd called their neighbor to go knock on their front door to see if Booth was home, but the woman had reported back that her knock had gone unanswered. Everything in and around the house looked quiet and secure. She placed yet another call to the Hoover, not feeling even remotely sorry for screaming at the junior agent who tried to reassure her. The man did report that they'd put out a BOLO for Booth's SUV, but at this point, there was no further information.

Craving action, Brennan walked the short distance to the diner, foolishly hoping to find Booth sitting at their usual table, digging into a slice of apple pie. He wasn't there, of course, and Brennan sat wearily on a counterstool, trying to focus. She wanted to retrace his steps to Baltimore, but she knew how dangerous that might be. Under most circumstances, she wouldn't care about the risk, but when they did finally locate Booth, she knew he would be angry with her if she went after him alone.

One of the waitresses placed a cup of coffee in front of her without a word, and Brennan glanced at it absently, uttering a quiet and reflexive 'thank you.' A moment later, Max Keenan scooted onto the stool next to her.

"I just want to talk about your mother," he said defensively. When Brennan turned her head toward him, he knew immediately that something was wrong. "What happened?"

"Booth is missing. It's been hours…" Brennan felt slightly ill as she forced herself to say the words out loud. The team was already working faster than usual in their search for answers that might lead to Booth's location, but this was the first time she'd said the actual words.

"He tried to take down Hugh Kennedy by himself?" Max asked incredulously.

"He's got one leg, and he's old," Brennan defended.

"Yeah. You know he got old? By being fast and paranoid. _He cut off his own leg._ "

"Booth is tough," she insisted, pushing back a rush of unpleasant images in her mind.

"What does the FBI say?"

"Nothing," Brennan spat. Max nodded sympathetically.

"Yeah… 'Need to know,' right?" He pursed his lips, sharing her frustration. Regardless of the fact that he and Booth played conflicting roles in life, Max knew how much the agent meant to his daughter. Brennan nodded, looking as though she might burst into tears.

"I want to do something, but I don't… I don't know what," she said helplessly.

"Are you asking?"

"You'd help find the man who's going to put you in jail?" she asked, raising her brows in disbelief.

"I'd help find the man you love," he clarified. "Booth will do the best he can. I'll do the best _I_ can, and...we'll see how it works out when we get there. Where did he find Kennedy?"

"Baltimore."

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While the team continued to process evidence at the lab, Brennan and Max headed to Baltimore. Just as Booth had done, they visited the airfield first, and one of the hobbyists gave them the name of the motel where they he believed Kennedy lived. The sight of Booth's SUV parked down the street from the motel gave Brennan a surge of hope, but when Max busted through the door of Kennedy's room, the person they encountered was neither Booth nor Kennedy. It was Veleska Miller. Veleska was hit by the door as it opened, but she recovered quickly and aimed a stun gun at Max.

"Dad! Look out!" Brennan suspected the woman to be the same bounty hunter who had given Booth the slip the previous day, but since Booth hadn't given a description, she couldn't be certain. Brennan moved her messenger bag in front of Max to block the projected probes of the stun gun, and Max moved toward the woman. Veleska pulled a police baton from her belt and swung it at Max, hitting him hard across the backs of his legs.

As Max fell, Veleska came at Brennan. Kennedy had left a crutch behind, and Brennan used it to block each strike of the police baton. The fourth strike caused Brennan to lose her balance, and Veleska pushed past her, sprinting from the room and down the long hallway.

"Come on, help me," Max said, reaching down to grasp the rug. "Pull!" Brennan and Max yanked the long runner toward them, causing Veleska to collide hard with a wall. Max clapped his hands once in victory. "She reminds me of your mother!" He raced toward Veleska and bound her hands with her own cable tie. "Hey, listen to me. I like you. But if you make another move on me, I _will_ hurt you. Understand?" His voice was calm and pleasant, if a little winded, and Brennan eyed him incredulously, finding his demeanor to be at odds with his words.

"If her name's Veleska, she's the same bounty hunter who brought in Kennedy's leg," she told him, kneeling on the floor as she spotted something out of place.

"How'd you find him?" Max asked.

"It's not that hard to find a one-legged, old white-haired man in Baltimore," Veleska panted, still aching from her fall.

"Why is she after him?" Brennan asked, slipping her hand into a latex glove and picking up the small, white object she'd noticed on the floor. She examined it with a mounting sensation of dread. _A tooth_.

"She has to make sure he stays gone," Max guessed. Veleska confirmed it.

"I helped a wanted fugitive evade arrest. I'm not going to jail."

Brennan walked toward them slowly, still studying the tooth with wide eyes. Max looked back at her curiously.

"What've you got?"

"It's a left anterior molar," she said quietly, her heart thundering. "It's Booth's tooth." In an instant, she was standing over Veleska, and she punched the bounty hunter hard in the face, the tooth still clenched in her fist. "Where's Booth?!"

"Temperance, honey…" Max attempted to hold her back, slightly stunned at her violent outburst.

"Kennedy has Booth, Dad. _He's got Booth!_ "

"Okay," he soothed. Max kept a hold of her wrist until she calmed down enough to step away. Veleska had blacked out, and Max shifted his arms beneath her to pick her up. "Help me get her back into the room." Brennan held the door open for Max and watched as her father placed the unconscious woman on the bed.

"I need to go back to the lab," Brennan told him, hating the thought of losing more time. There was nothing she could do about it though. She knew that the evidence would lead them to Booth, and the evidence was at the Jeffersonian.

Veleska regained consciousness after a few minutes, and Brennan watched her father threaten the woman with suffocation if she didn't provide answers to his questions. Although his actions disturbed her, the thought of Booth being in danger was far more disturbing, and she was relieved when the woman gave them a more detailed explanation of Kennedy's disappearance. She had helped him fake his death in exchange for her life, and when she'd arrived at the motel, the room had been empty. She claimed not to have any idea what had happened to Booth.

Max exchanged a glance with Brennan, silently asking her if she believed the woman's story. Brennan nodded and asked what they should do with her.

"The room is paid for through the end of the week," Max told her with a hint of a smile. He wedged a pillow beneath Veleska's head, and they left the room. Brennan was troubled at the thought of leaving her tied to the bed, but she reasoned that they hadn't gagged her. _She should be able to scream for help,_ she mused.

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Brennan made the drive back to DC at speeds that she knew would've made Booth uncomfortable. Thankfully, Max didn't comment on her driving. She was lost in her anxious thoughts, wondering if this was how Booth had felt when she'd been taken. _It's no wonder the experiences scarred him so deeply,_ she reasoned. Brennan felt as though her metaphorical heart was being ripped open, and the pain was one hundred percent real. It hurt to even _try_ to imagine her life without him, and she immediately recoiled from the thought.

Brennan took a deep breath, steeling herself against her own doubts. She couldn't allow herself to start thinking like that. Booth had never given up on her, even when the circumstances were impossible. She wasn't about to let him down: now or ever.

"Kennedy doesn't have Booth," Max said quietly, pulling his daughter out of her tortured thoughts.

"How do you know?"

"He's only got one leg."

"So?"

"Well...so he's retired. He's like me. He just… He just wants to disappear," Max explained. Brennan sighed, wondering where he was planning to 'disappear' to next.

"Then who's got Booth?"

"Well, there's only one other significant player in all of this." Max pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it and holding it up to show her. It was the diagram Booth had made to show the relationships between Kennedy, McKenna, and Gallagher.

"Gallagher," she said in surprise, wondering why she hadn't thought of him sooner. "What am I going to do with you when I get to the lab?"

"Mmmm… I'll just take a nap here in the car," he smiled. "Been an awfully exciting day for an old guy like me."

Max fell silent, watching her expression shift as her genius mind sifted through the details and options. Her graceful features were tight with anxiety, and the crease between her brows was the same one she'd possessed as a child. He thought back to the way she'd attacked the bounty hunter and smiled in wonder at the extraordinary woman she'd become. _She's so much like her mother,_ he thought, feeling as though he might burst with pride.

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A quick review of Booth's dental x-rays confirmed that the tooth did, in fact, belong to him. Brennan wasn't surprised by the information, but she felt reassured nonetheless. Angela pulled Brennan aside before she could say anything about Gallagher.

"When we figure out where he is, I'm going with you," she insisted.

" _No,"_ Brennan said firmly. There was no way she was dragging her sweet, gentle friend into this mess.

"I can't fight or shoot a gun, but if something bad happens, I can spit with deadly accuracy."

"Thanks, but no."

"You need help, Brennan. Look at my face. Do you really see me backing down?"

"I… I already have help, Ange," Brennan said, averting her eyes from Angela's perceptive gaze.

"From whom?"

"From someone worse than Kennedy…"

" _Are you serious?"_ she asked in alarm, deciphering Brennan's cryptic statement with ease.

"Don't say it."

"Your _father_ is helping you?"

Brennan pulled away from her and returned to the platform where the rest of the team was still gathered, speaking amongst themselves in low, urgent tones.

"Booth is being held by Melvin Gallagher," Brennan announced.

"That's a leap," Cam replied in surprise. "How do you know?"

"Can we just go with this please?"

"Of course not," Cam argued, crossing her arms over her chest. Angela spoke up from behind her.

"Obviously, Brennan found out from her father, who is a wanted fugitive."

"Ange!"

"Now that, I can go with," Cam said, earning looks of surprise from the rest of the team.

"We need to figure out where Gallagher is holding Booth," Brennan said. Everyone's gaze shifted to Hodgins expectantly. "Shoes," she added simply.

"Shoes?"

"Gallagher said that the last time he saw McKenna, he was leaving for vacation after a tough night of work," Brennan explained.

"You think Gallagher might have a place that he takes people for that sort of thing," Cam surmised.

Hodgins returned to his office to go over the particulates he'd pulled from McKenna's shoes, and Zack joined to help him postulate scenarios. They joined Brennan and the others in her office after a few minutes, and the team scoured Gallagher's tax documents for a location that could have left the specific particulates on McKenna's shoes. It was Angela who found the answer, and Brennan raced to her desk phone to call Cullen.

"Yes," she said when he answered. "This is Dr. Brennan at the Jeffersonian. I just received a call from Agent Booth that he's being held at the Perdue Airfield in Oakville, Virginia. Send backup. I'm going in."

Brennan slammed the receiver down without waiting for Cullen's response, knowing full well that he would've told her to stay put. That wasn't happening. The others looked at her in shock.

"You just lied your ass off to the Federal Bureau of Investigation," Angela sputtered. Brennan glanced at her but didn't reply, grabbing her jacket and sprinting out of the lab.

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When Booth regained consciousness, he was disturbed to find himself bound to a chair and being watched by Melvin Gallagher and his attorney. They questioned him relentlessly about Kennedy: if he'd found him, where he'd seen him last, where Booth thought Kennedy might have been headed… Booth remained silent, earning himself a right hook to the face.

As the two thugs speculated on how best to kill him, Booth kept his eyes forward and his expression neutral. He never stopped listening, but anyone looking at him would believe that he'd completely tuned them out. Booth had been here before. Restrained and beaten, questioned and threatened. This wasn't new. Lightner pulled something from Booth's wallet and handed it to Gallagher, who smiled at it cruelly.

"Oh, cute. Must be his kid, huh? And that hot scientist lady," he chuckled. Booth's features remained stoic and placid, not a trace of fear finding its way into his expression, even when Gallagher landed another punch to his face. "Head like an anvil… I hurt my hand. I'm gonna let you take a look at your little family," he said, holding up the small photo of Brennan and Parker. "Consign their faces to your memory. And then I'm gonna ask you which of your eyes you like best."

Booth glared at him but was pleased when Gallagher leaned close enough for Booth to head-butt him. His forehead connected with Gallagher's nose, and the man stumbled back, clutching his bloody face. Lightner retaliated by kicking Booth's chair forcefully, knocking him to his side on the concrete floor. Before Booth had a chance to take another breath, Lightner kicked him in the stomach several times. Booth groaned and bit his tongue, refusing to cry out in pain.

When Gallagher recovered from the impact of Booth's forehead, he pulled Lightner away from Booth, allowing the agent only a short moment's rest before he and the chair were shifted upright once more. Booth took several more blows to the face, and it became more difficult to keep his expression vacant.

He forced the pain from his mind, focusing on the only images that could comfort him. He thought of Parker: the way his toothy grin stretched wide on his sweet face, the feeling of his little arms around Booth's neck as he hugged him. Booth's eyes flitted briefly to Lightner, who was using a blowtorch to heat the metal end of a screwdriver. It glowed bright orange in his hand.

Lightner asked about Kennedy once more, but Booth continued to hold his tongue. As he pressed the red-hot screwdriver into Booth's inner thigh, Booth forced himself not to succumb to the pain or the nauseating smell of his own scorched flesh.

Booth pulled the image of Brennan to the center of his mind, panting in quiet agony. He forced himself to focus on his future with her: the future he was determined to have no matter how long it took her to find him. Because he knew, with absolute certainty, that she _would_ find him. Brennan didn't know how to give up. He pictured her face in front of him rather than Lightner's. He imagined how she might age as they spent their lives together, pictured her with their child in her arms...imagined her walking toward him in a white dress. Booth smiled tightly, refusing to give in to the intense pain.

Almost as if his thoughts had conjured her, Brennan raced into the airplane hangar with Max following close on her heels. Lightner was momentarily distracted by their arrival, and Booth took the opportunity to throw his weight toward Lightner, sending the man sprawling onto the concrete. The momentum tipped Booth's chair onto its side, and Brennan was at his side in an instant.

Gallagher had taken off at the first sight of Brennan, but when he left through the large hangar doors, he encountered the squad of agents Brennan had requested as backup. Max peeked through the doorway only long enough to spot the flashing red and blue lights before running back to his daughter. She was crouching protectively over Booth, but her eyes were on Lightner, who had fallen upon his own blazing hot screwdriver. It was embedded deep in his chest.

"I need your car," Max told her urgently.

"Max Keenan, you're under arrest," Booth said weakly, finally allowing his mind to acknowledge his pain.

"Not if I get the keys," Max replied. Brennan hesitated only a moment before answering. Though her mind worked quickly, her response was based solely upon instinct.

"They're in the ignition," she told him, her eyes bright from the adrenaline. Max kissed her forehead quickly and ran from the room. Booth squeaked in protest, and Brennan turned back to him guiltily. "Well, it's not like I actually _gave_ him the keys."

Brennan's eyes flew over every inch of Booth's body, checking for life-threatening injuries. Agents swarmed around them, and one handed her a pocket knife so that she could cut him loose from the chair. Booth grunted and eased himself onto his back. He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain, but the feeling of Brennan's lips forced them open again. Ignoring their audience, she rained kisses over his face, her tears spilling over her own cheeks and landing on his. Booth lifted a hand to steady her, and she leaned back to meet his tortured gaze.

"I'm okay," he groaned. She huffed in disapproval, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at his words. A couple of paramedics wove their way through the crowd of agents, carrying a stretcher between them. Booth started to push them away, but a fierce look from Brennan stilled his movements.

"You're going to the hospital," she said firmly, eyeing his injured leg. Brennan moved her fingers gently over Booth's face, feeling for fractures but finding none. "I don't think anything's broken, but you need x-rays."

"They can patch me up here," Booth whined, inclining his head toward the medics.

"Yes, they can. And then you're going to the hospital for x-rays. It's not up for discussion."

"You're very bossy."

"You're very lucky," she countered tearfully. "I could've been too late."

"But you weren't. I knew you'd find me, Bones. You never give up."

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Booth agreed to let the paramedics take him to the nearest hospital on the condition that Brennan be allowed to ride with him in the ambulance. If anyone thought of arguing, the fire in Brennan's eyes kept them silent. Booth's x-rays were clean, revealing only bruising to his facial bones and ribs. His abdomen was grotesquely discolored from the repeated kicks to the stomach, but his CT scan was clear of internal bleeding. After the wound on his leg was cleaned and dressed, Booth was discharged with instructions to rest for a week or so before returning to work.

When they arrived home, they found her car in the garage and a note on the kitchen table. Brennan helped Booth into a chair before reading the short letter.

 _Honey,_

 _Next time I really want to tell you some things about your mother._

 _Love, Dad_

Resting on top of the note was a beautifully rendered glass dolphin, and Brennan picked it up thoughtfully before sliding the paper toward Booth so that he could read it. After a moment, she returned the dolphin to the table and went to the kitchen for a glass of water so that Booth could take his analgesic. She placed the glass on the table in front of him and waited until he'd swallowed his pill obediently.

"So… He says he's coming back," Booth said quietly. Brennan sighed and took his glass to the sink.

"I don't know what I want from him," she admitted. "Every time he leaves, it feels a little like...before. I still want answers, but seeing him is uncomfortable."

Booth frowned, both at the pain in his head and leg as well as the sadness in her voice. She helped him up the stairs and out of the remnants of his ruined suit. He groaned as she eased him into bed, placing a pillow beneath his leg in the hopes of immobilizing it somewhat. Booth assured her that he was comfortable, and she crawled into bed beside him, flicking the switch on her bedside lamp.

"What should I do next time?" she asked, rolling onto her side and gazing at him through the darkness.

"Well… What do you mean, exactly?" Booth was happy to focus on anything other than the ache in his face or the burning pain in his thigh.

"What's my obligation? Do I turn him in right away, or…?" She trailed off, not knowing what she wanted. Booth sighed thoughtfully and was silent for a few moments before answering.

"You should talk to him. I think you'll feel better about things if you do. And...once you have your answers, or at least as many as you can get out of him, then you can call me to make the arrest. _If_ that's what you really want."

Brennan sighed contemplatively. Did she truly want to have her own father arrested? To be put on trial for a murder he'd committed in order to protect the lives of his children? She was struggling with conflicting loyalties now more than ever. Max had helped her save Booth's life, and that was even more valuable to her than the help he'd provided when Peter had taken her. She felt that she owed him for Booth's life, and she now had a better understanding of Booth's feelings toward her father. When they'd been working together to find Booth, it had felt almost...familiar.

"Max mentioned a song… 'Keep on Trying?'" she said vaguely, thinking back to their conversation.

"Yeah," Booth smiled. "Poco."

"You know it?" Booth nodded and began to sing the lyrics in a soft, quiet voice. To his amazement, Brennan joined him, and his smile stretched wider across his face. He'd never heard her sing before, and he was surprised to learn that she had a beautiful singing voice. He wondered why she didn't sing more often.

"What did he say about it?"

"That is was his favorite song when I was a kid…mine too," she said, sighing ruefully. "I told him I didn't remember it, but I do. Now I wish I hadn't lied to him… He helped me find you in time."

"You'll have the chance to make things right with your dad, Bones. And more importantly, he'll have the chance to make things right with _you_...if that's what you want."

Brennan smiled at him sadly, still uncertain about her opinions when it came to Max Keenan. She became lost in her own tangle of thoughts for a few minutes, and when she looked at Booth again, his eyes had drifted shut. She smiled at him and whispered words of love, pressing a tender kiss to his temple before allowing her own eyes to close as well.

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At Brennan's insistence, Booth took a week off of work to recover. She was concerned enough at the prospect of his rebellion that she stayed home as well, working remotely from her laptop when she was needed. His pain levels receded slowly with the help of anti-inflammatories and pain relievers, but unfortunately, Booth wasn't the only one recovering from the ordeal.

Two days before they were due to return to work, Brennan woke from a violent nightmare, screaming and drenched in sweat. Booth was startled when she shouted his name in terror, particularly since her head was right next to his as they slept. He gathered her into his arms immediately, holding her against his chest as she sobbed brokenly.

"Shhhh, it's okay, baby,' he soothed.

"I was too late… You were dead," she cried. "It was so real. I thought I'd lost you forever." Booth continued to shush her and hugged her tighter to him.

"You didn't lose me, Bones. I'll always be here, and even if someone tries to take me away, I'll always fight like hell to stay with you." Brennan drew several faltering breaths, measuring his heartbeats in an effort to calm herself. After a few moments, Booth spoke again, desperate to erase her fear. "You know, I usually like it when you scream my name, but that wasn't quite what I had in mind," he teased.

Brennan gave a watery chuckle and pressed her lips to his bare chest, thankful for each heartbeat that meant he was still alive, still with her. Booth moved his hands in soothing patterns over her skin and stroked her hair lovingly.

"It was you that got me through it, Bones. I focused on you while they were hurting me, and I kept it together." She looked up at him curiously, wiping her eyes and adjusting herself so that she could see his face better.

"What did you think about?"

"Images of you, mostly. The way you look at me when you tell me you love me or when we make love… The way you look at Parker with so much love in your eyes… I imagined you growing older as we spent our lives together… Carrying our child," he whispered, his tone almost reverent. "Holding a beautiful baby in your arms that looked just like you…"

"We don't have a baby yet," she pointed out in typical fashion. Her straightforward observation made him smile.

"Not yet, but give it time. Everything happens eventually."

"Everything?"

"Yeah… All of the stuff you think doesn't happen...it happens. You just gotta be ready for it." His grin was infectious, and Brennan inhaled deeply, bracing herself for the words she could no longer keep locked inside of her.

"And… You giving me that ring that's in the back of your sock drawer… Is _that_ something that might happen... _eventually_?" Her words were hesitant, but her smile never left her face. Booth's eyes widened in shock.

"Uh… It was my grandmother's. Pops gave it to me at Christmas; I didn't ask him for it. I know you don't want something like that, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, and-"

She silenced him with a gentle kiss.

"What if I _did_ want it?"

Booth was fairly certain that his heart had stopped. His mind reeled at the direction the conversation had taken, and he struggled to find the right words.

" _Do you?_ I mean… Bones, if you want it, it's yours. _I'm_ yours. But that will always be true whether you wear my ring or not. I don't want to make you feel like you have to change for me. I'd never ask that of you."

"I've _already_ changed, Booth. I've thought about being your wife since the morning after we first made love. I just wasn't sure what I wanted," she admitted shyly.

"But you think you're sure now?" he asked incredulously, still unable to believe they were actually discussing this. In response, Brennan smiled her dazzling smile and pressed her lips to his again. Booth gasped in amazement and kissed her fiercely, ignoring the residual ache in his jaw. Time slipped by in immeasurable increments as they clung to one another.

When at last they separated, Booth gave her the brightest smile she'd ever seen on his face, and he practically leapt from the bed in spite of his nearly-healed injuries. Brennan sat up and watched him cross the room, stifling the urge to chastise him for not taking it easy. He opened his sock drawer and pulled the tiny black box from inside. She laughed breathlessly as he reached for her hands and pulled her out of bed to her feet. Booth sank down onto one knee, smiling brilliantly up at her as he presented her with his grandmother's ring.

"Temperance…" Brennan's breath hitched at the reverence in his voice. "I love you. I want to spend the _rest of my life_ loving you, and I want the world to know. You're my future, my family, my _home_. Will you marry me?"

Brennan's throat constricted with emotion, and her cheeks ached from smiling. Her love for him overwhelmed her, and there were a thousand words she could have said in that moment. But when she opened her mouth, her mind had settled on only one.

"Yes."

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 ***swoon***


	31. Chapter 31

**Wow, great response to the last chapter! I do aim to please. ;) I'm honestly not sure how much of the wedding I'm going to write at this point. Mostly because it's been done so many times. I'd welcome opinions on that. I'm currently working on the finale episode, but there will be several chapters after it, just like with the last story. I'll do my best to keep the same posting schedule through the end of this story, but my daughters are coming home this Saturday after being gone for eight weeks. So I trust you'll all forgive me for taking a break between this story and the next. :)**

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Chapter 31

"A _crater?_ You're sure that's what they said?"

"Yeah, Bones. I thought it was weird too, but...it's not like _weird_ is a new thing for us."

"I guess that's true. Hmmm." Brennan's eyes narrowed speculatively as she tried to imagine what circumstances would result in a set of human remains ending up in the bottom of a crater. To her knowledge, there hadn't been any recent local meteorite activity, but she knew that man-made objects fell from space on a regular basis. Booth glanced at her from the driver's seat, smiling affectionately at the pensive expression on her face and knowing that her genius brain was already off to the races.

"You still with me there, Bones?" he teased.

"Hmm? Yeah, sorry. How much further?"

"Not long. So...are we making any kind of announcement today, or did you just want to tell Angela and trust her to spread the word?" Booth smirked. Angela's loose lips had been a concern in the beginning of his relationship with Brennan, but now Booth almost liked the idea of letting the artist spread the word about the engagement. It would hopefully mean less time spent with their relationship in the spotlight. Brennan laughed at his subtle dig on her best friend.

"Well, I figured I'd just say something to the team when I get to the lab later. Hopefully having a case will distract everyone enough that we're not harassed for the details. You should probably tell Cullen directly though," she mused, looking a little nervous. "Do you think the FBI will have a problem with it? Cullen's not too happy with me right now."

"You mean because you told him you were going in to save me, demanded backup, and then hung up on him?" Booth snickered. He'd corroborated her story, so Cullen didn't know that she'd actually lied to him about how she'd tracked Booth down. His boss had no knowledge of Max's involvement either, and Booth was going to make sure it stayed that way.

"You make it sound worse than it was," she mumbled, slightly embarrassed at her own audacity.

"It's alright, Bones. Personally, I think it was pretty hot, even if I am a little upset that you risked your safety. And I think Cullen's just happy you didn't have time to run home and get your gun."

Brennan rolled her eyes but was privately thankful that she hadn't needed a weapon. Gallagher had gotten himself arrested, and Lightner had eventually died from the penetrating wound to his chest. She couldn't help but feel relieved that she hadn't been forced to kill anyone in order to save Booth's life.

Booth reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, allowing his mind to drift back over the past few days since she'd found him in that airplane hangar. He was engaged to Dr. Temperance Brennan. No matter how many times he said the words aloud or in his mind, Booth still couldn't quite believe it had actually happened. He glanced at his fiancée and couldn't suppress the smile that curved his lips upward.

His first call had been to his grandfather, who had, predictably, spent a good ten minutes on variations of ' _I told you so.'_ Then Hank had immediately demanded details on the wedding plans, which Booth and Brennan hadn't gotten around to discussing at that point. Hank's pestering prompted a conversation between the couple regarding the future, but they still had some things to work out.

They'd decided to ask Angela and Hodgins to stand up with them, though Brennan had been surprised that Booth didn't intend to ask Jared. Booth hadn't heard from his brother in months, and Brennan had yet to meet him. As much as Booth loved his brother, he knew full well that there was a reasonable chance Jared wouldn't show up to the wedding, which made him a poor candidate for best man. Angela's place as maid of honor was a given, and Parker would make an adorable ring bearer.

They hadn't set a date or really even discussed a timeline, but they didn't feel rushed to do so. The location was a matter of slight dispute, however. Brennan was more than willing to get married in a church, but Booth didn't feel the need. He'd told her that he would much rather get married in a place that meant something to both of them. In the back of his mind, he pictured holding a ceremony in their own back yard, but he wasn't sure how she would feel about that. They had both agreed that they wanted to keep the guest list fairly short, inviting only friends, family, and a few colleagues.

"When everyone found out about our relationship, it was kind of by accident, and that worked well," Brennan said, pulling her fiancé out of his wandering thoughts. "Maybe I'll just let Angela see the ring later and…"

"Step back to watch the show?" he laughed. She grinned back at him and nodded.

"It _was_ somewhat entertaining last time."

"Sounds like a plan."

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The remains were indeed found at the bottom of a crater in a cow pasture. The farmer they spoke to described it as 'meat...wearing clothes.' Booth's stomach turned at the sight of the body, but Brennan seemed to take it in stride. There was really nothing to which he could compare the state of the remains. Everything that should have been inside was spread over the ground, and the skin had been obliterated.

"So what do you think? Dead?" he asked facetiously. Brennan threw him a disparaging look. "I'm just saying, if he fell out of a plane, that plane is long gone by now."

"No sign of a parachute," she observed. "What do those shoes look like to you?"

"Loafers," Booth shrugged, pulling his notecards from his pocket.

"He hit the ground at approximately two hundred kilometers per hour."

"How can you tell that by his shoes?" Booth chuckled.

"A hundred and twenty-four miles per hour is terminal velocity for a falling human," she replied simply. Booth shook his head with a grin. _Only Bones would know something like that._

"So we're gonna go with the theory that this was once human?"

"I've never read about an alien encounter in which the aliens wore loafers," she replied.

"How much do you want to bet Hodgins has?"

They shared a laugh, and Brennan motioned for the techs to approach so that they could prepare the body for transport. They worked together to get the remains back to the lab, and Booth hung around the platform while the team began their analysis. Brennan had decided to wear her ring on a chain around her neck at times when she needed to wear gloves, and she was grateful that she'd already slipped them on before seeing Angela. It gave her a little time to prepare herself.

Brennan, Cam and Hodgins were bent over the exam table while Booth listened to their running commentary, trying to look anywhere but at the fleshy mess that had once been a person.

"The crows and critters sure made quick work of him," Cam observed dryly.

"Yeah, but these calliphora vicina eggs will confirm time of landing," Hodgins replied.

"Blowflies on aliens. Who knew?" Booth smirked. Brennan grinned at him in approval for remembering the scientific name for blowflies as well as for his wit. Hodgins, on the other hand, was not so amused.

"You're taking a shot at me because I happen to believe that we are not all alone in an infinity of space?"

"It's not the believing in extraterrestrial life that's odd," Brennan argued.

"It's the believing that they're visiting us," Booth added, still smiling.

"This guy is wearing loafers," Hodgins said grumpily. "Aliens don't wear loafers, people!"

"Even if they want to pass unnoticed amongst us?" Cam piped up, grinning wickedly. Booth chuckled in appreciation of the joint effort to piss off the 'Bug Man.'

"Before taking us over?" The three of them traded devious smiles as Hodgins backed away from the table with wide eyes.

"Ohhh. Oh this is harassment. You know, it's illegal to mock people for their fundamental beliefs." Hodgins huffed his way off the platform as Zack swiped his way onto it, and Brennan continued the analysis with Cam. Booth felt slightly guilty for patronizing Hodgins and wondered at the reason for his oversensitivity; Hodgins typically let most of their teasing roll off his back. Zack pulled up the victim's x-rays on the monitor, and Brennan could see immediately that something was off.

"This is… I want to say 'anomalous,' but I'm going to go with 'weird.'" She glanced at Booth, recalling his statement from that morning about 'weird' being nothing new for them.

"What's weird?" Cam asked. Brennan explained that the bones were far too porous and demineralized. Zack agreed and estimated the age of the bones to be around a hundred and thirty years old. Brennan assured Cam that there had to be a rational explanation.

"He was in outer space," Zack declared.

"So he fell from outer space in a pair of loafers?" Booth said with a chuckle. Cam forced the smile from her face and shook her head.

"Hodgins left too soon."

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The team worked the theory that the victim had been an astronaut, and the amount of demineralization to the bones indicated that the man had spent approximately ten months in space. Since those criteria didn't apply to very many people, finding the identity of the man was a fairly simple matter for Booth. After a quick trip to his office, he returned to the lab with the victim's file. He found Brennan at her desk, looking at the sketch Angela had just emailed.

"Meet Colonel Calvin Howard," Booth said, showing her a photograph of the man and reading aloud from his file. "Senior training specialist and crew liaison in the shuttle program. Currently working with the National Space Agency in Bristol, Maryland."

"Angela just sent me her work-in-progress of the partial skull reconstruction. She says we expected too much too soon, but the shape of the head, the cheekbones…" Brennan compared the photograph with the image on her computer screen and was rather impressed with Angela's work.

"Close enough," Booth agreed, handing her the file.

"Six months in the International Space Station," she read. "Plus a number of servicing missions to both the Hubble and Lansing telescopes."

"Does that add up to the right amount of bone rot?"

"Loss," she corrected gently, wondering why he was smiling as he asked the question. "Bone loss. And...yes. Has anyone reported him missing?"

"No, not exactly."

"Not exactly?"

"Well, astronauts are regarded as viable terror targets. Their whereabouts are extremely confidential," he explained. Brennan's own expression shifted into a mischievous grin.

"I bet if you told the agency you were going to identify Colonel Howard to the press, they'd be a little more cooperative."

"You know, I have been a _wonderful_ influence on you," he replied, his eyes twinkling at her in amusement.

" _I'll say!"_ Angela agreed loudly from the open doorway. Her eyes were fixed on Brennan's ring, which was now back in its rightful place on her finger. "Oh my God, Sweetie! You guys are engaged?!"

Brennan smiled widely at her friend's amazed expression and nodded, standing from her chair to receive the hug she knew was coming. Angela trotted across the room and threw her arms around Brennan, practically buzzing with excitement. Booth attempted to sidle out of the room unnoticed, but Angela's gaze zeroed in on him quickly. In a half-second, she was across the room and hugging Booth tightly.

"How did you propose?" she asked him. " _When_ did you propose? When are you guys getting married?"

"Uh… You know, I'm sure Bones will tell you all about it," Booth dodged, smiling in appreciation at Brennan's sigh of exasperation for being left at Angela's mercy. "I gotta...go talk to Cam. We'll go visit the victim's wife in a bit, okay Bones?"

Booth successfully extricated himself from Angela's clutches and laughed silently as he made his way toward Cam's office. They'd been friends for a long time, and Booth knew she would appreciate hearing the news directly from him rather than through the Jeffersonian gossip hotline.

Brennan frowned at Booth's retreating form and gave Angela her full attention. Though Brennan wasn't typically one for gushing and swooning, she actually felt herself enjoying the opportunity to act like a girl. She recounted the conversation which had led to Booth's proposal, and Angela squealed and sighed in all the right places. Predictably, the artist insisted on discussing the wedding and was eager to help Brennan plan.

"We haven't decided how soon we'll get married, Ange. There's really no rush… But we do know that we want it to be fairly small. Just those closest to us."

"Well, you know I'll help you in any way I can, Sweetie. God, I'm just _so_ excited."

"Actually," Brennan smiled, "there is something you can do for me."

"Name it!"

"Be my maid of honor?"

Angela's shriek of delight could be heard across the lab, and Booth chuckled at Cam's shocked expression, pleased that _his_ friend was taking the news quietly.

"Wow, Seeley. This is big. I… _Wow!_ Congratulations."

"Thanks, Camille. We haven't set a date or anything, but Angela saw the ring just now, so I wanted to tell you before she got out of hand." Booth tilted his head toward the gleeful noises emanating from Brennan's office, and he and Cam shared a knowing smile.

"I appreciate it. I'm happy for you, Seeley."

"Thanks, Cam."

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After meeting with the victim's wife, Jean Marie Howard, Booth and Brennan traveled to the airfield where Colonel Howard had kept his plane. Booth managed to get an expedited warrant not only to search the plane for evidence but also to obtain any documentation pertaining to Howard's recent training missions. His bone density loss had resulted in the loss of his medical clearance two years prior, and since that time, he'd been training other astronauts.

Mrs. Howard and two of her friends, also wives of astronauts, explained that their families had the same kind of connection that could be found among military families. They harbored the same kind of fear for their husbands' lives. Mrs. Howard had expected her husband to return home that very day.

The forensic team swept the plane for evidence of blood or foul play but found none. Shortly after their arrival, the partners were interrupted by a woman named Nina Sandborn, who worked for the National Space Agency. She was a rather unpleasant woman, and the records she surrendered in compliance with the warrant were almost completely redacted. When the documents were delivered to Booth in his office that afternoon, he decided to call Hodgins for help. He'd been looking for an opportunity to talk to him about the wedding, and Booth preferred to have that sort of conversation on his own turf rather than in the lab.

"These are the documents you subpoenaed from the agency?" Hodgins asked, propping his feet on Booth's desk and frowning as he flipped through the pages.

"Yeah, but all the info's blacked out."

"Want me to see if I can get anything out of this?"

"Can you?"

"No," he grinned. "I'd need originals. These are photocopies."

"Then why'd you offer?" Booth asked, glaring at Hodgins' feet until he sheepishly returned them to the floor.

"Well, why else would you ask me here?"

"Cause you're a conspiracy nut, and I thought you'd enjoy filling in the blanks," Booth evaded, not quite ready to discuss his other reason.

"With paranoid ramblings?"

"It's better than nothing. The Lansing Telescope… That mean anything to you?"

"Yeah," Hodgins replied, getting up to pace idly around the room. "It's a multi-gazillion dollar, deep space, multifrequency telescope that keeps needing 'repairs.'"

"Why'd you say it like that?"

"It doesn't need repairs. There's no rust in space. So-called 'repair crews' are up there retrieving classified information."

"Classified information?" Booth echoed mockingly. "The telescope is pointed at the planet Pluto."

"Pluto's no longer a planet; it was demoted. And if the Lansing was pointed away from the Earth, why would they need to black out all this material?" he challenged.

"Huh…" Booth said, slightly uncomfortable with the idea that Hodgins was most likely right about this particular conspiracy. He watched Hodgins circle the office, examining things as he passed until he returned to the chair he'd just vacated. "Uh...there was actually something else I wanted to talk to you about."

"Shoot."

"I'm sure Angela probably told you already, but Bones and I are getting married… I don't know when yet, but I was wondering if...you'd be my best man?" Booth faltered uncomfortably, but Hodgins didn't seem to notice. His eyes were wide with astonishment.

"Seriously?" His bearded grin split his face in two. " _Dude!_ Absolutely. Of course I will, but… Don't you have a brother?"

"Yeah, but he probably won't be able to make it, and I'm not all that close to him anyway. Thanks, man, I appreciate it." Booth relaxed back into his chair, relieved that the discussion hadn't been as awkward as he'd feared. His friendship with Hodgins had certainly come a long way; it didn't seem all that long ago that he'd been perpetually annoyed by the 'bug man.'

"I'm happy to do it. Congratulations, man."

"Thanks," Booth smiled.

"Can I ask you a question?" Hodgins asked, leaning forward intently. _Uh oh_.

"Yeah."

"What's the deal on proposing? I mean, what is the absolute proper way to do it?"

"Well, I didn't really get to do it the way I expected… Pops gave me my grandmother's ring, and Bones found it like a month ago apparently," he chuckled. "She's the one who brought it up, but I still said the words and all of that."

"Yeah...That's kind of what I did. Spur of the moment, I mean. I bought the ring, and I brought it up."

"You asked Angela to marry you?" Booth asked in surprise.

"Apparently I didn't do it right."

"Do it again, do it better," he encouraged. "Go all out this time. With the dinner and the getting down on one knee, the violin… Actually, forget the violin."

Hodgins nodded, his eyes glazing over as he began to refine his plans. _No wonder he's been so cranky,_ Booth mused. He smiled to himself at the thought of Hodgins and Angela getting married. He knew how much Brennan wanted their friends to be happy, and he couldn't agree with her more.

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On advice from Hodgins, Booth decided to track down the astronaut that Colonel Howard had been training to go up in his place. When they arrived at the National Space Agency, they were told that Commander James Adams was scheduled for training time on the A300 Zero-G, but they were invited to ride along and conduct their interview on the plane.

"The Zero-G?" Brennan asked in slight trepidation.

"The Vomit Comet," Booth grinned.

They suited up and took their seats across from Commander Adams, each of them wearing a set of large headphones through which to communicate with the pilot. Adams was troubled at the idea that Cal Howard could have simply fallen out of a plane, and both partners agreed with him on the unlikelihood of that scenario. They discussed the victim's marriage briefly, and Adams insisted that the Howards were a 'very solid couple.'

"Did you ever get drunk together?" Brennan asked.

"What?" Adams said, flummoxed.

"What my partner is trying to ask is if you two were buddies. Did you go out and have drinks, exchange confidences?"

"Yes, that's what I asked," Brennan said, a little indignant.

"Yeah, sure, of course. At times," Adams admitted.

"So you would have known if his marriage was in trouble?"

"Yes, sir, I would."

"How can you be sure?" Brennan pressed. Adams covered his microphone with his hand before answering.

"Because Cal knew when I was unfaithful to my wife."

"Colleen?" Brennan asked, recalling the blonde woman who had sat with Mrs. Howard earlier that day.

"Right, you guys met her at Cal's place… Look, that has to stay between us." Booth agreed to keep the secret, and Adams went on, "Cal Howard was my friend, my colleague, and my teacher. If someone tossed him from an airplane, I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Why do I feel like you want to tell us something?" Booth asked speculatively.

Before Adams could reply, the pilot issued a warning into their headphones that they would be experiencing weightlessness for about fifteen to twenty seconds. The feeling was exhilarating. Booth and Brennan floated up from their seats, consumed by the same tremulous feeling in their stomachs that they'd both experienced on roller coasters or parachuting from planes, but this was different from either of those sensations. There was no physical contact as their would have been with the harness of a roller coaster and no blinding rush of wind in their eyes and ears from a fall to the earth. By the time they had settled back in their seats, Brennan felt almost giddy.

"That was great," she gushed, smiling like a cheshire cat.

"Man, you're not kidding," Booth agreed.

"I would very much like to do that again." After taking a moment to reorient themselves to the feeling of gravity, Booth returned their focus to the interview.

"I believe you were going to tell us something?" he prompted Commander Adams. Adams covered his microphone again and spoke in a hushed tone.

"Cal was talking to the STC."

"The what?"

"Just look into it; I really can't say anything else about it."

Booth and Brennan glanced at each other in mutual confusion but decided to let it go, and once they were back in the SUV, Brennan suggested they ask Hodgins about it.

"He seems to know a lot about all of this," she explained.

"Yeah. Hey, speaking of Hodgins, did Angela tell you he proposed?"

"What? No! She didn't say anything." Brennan's eyes were wide with a mixture of amazement and alarm. _Why didn't Angela tell me?_ "When did he propose? She wasn't wearing a ring…"

"I don't know when exactly, but…apparently she said no."

"Oh," Brennan replied sadly. She supposed that in light of her own news, perhaps Angela hadn't wanted to draw attention to herself. "Well, she was very happy for us. I didn't suspect that anything was wrong, so...I hope she's okay."

"Yeah, me too. He's gonna try again though. He asked me for tips," Booth chuckled.

"Tips? On proposing?"

"Yup."

"What did you say?"

"I told him to go all out, you know," he shrugged, "dinner, candlelight, music, romance…"

"Is that what you would've done if I hadn't brought it up first?" she asked, easily imagining Booth in the scene he had described.

"I don't know… Maybe. Honestly, I didn't think you'd ever want me to propose, so I hadn't put much thought into planning it. But...I think the way it happened was right for us, you know?" He exchanged an affectionate smile with his fiancée and continued. "It's just another way that we're unique. Our 'perfect timing' has always been _made_ perfect because it's _us_. It may not make sense for anyone else, but...it fits us."

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"It's the Space Travel Coalition," Hodgins told them, looking pleasantly amused after he'd heard how they'd spent their afternoon. "It's a privately funded space exploration and tourism group. And...did you?"

"Did we what?" Booth and Brennan said in unison.

"Vomit in the comet!"

"No, I didn't vomit. I'm sure they were trying," Booth shrugged.

"They can try me anytime," Brennan grinned. "It was amazing."

Booth smiled at her indulgently, enjoying her expression of girlish delight. Brennan didn't often show that side of herself, and it always had a tendency to send Booth's heart skipping wildly off-beat. He held her hand as they followed Hodgins through the lab.

Hodgins explained that the STC was selling seats on a spaceship that don't even exist yet, and Brennan scoffed at his eagerness, especially when Hodgins revealed that he'd already bought a ticket for himself. Booth gave his fiancée a quick but thorough goodbye kiss, promising to pick her up later, and he went to the Hoover in order to do some digging into the STC. By the time he returned, it was nearly dinner time, and he appeared in her office doorway with an armful of takeout from their favorite Thai place.

"Hey, Bones," he greeted her, kissing her on the cheek before arranging their food containers on her coffee table. "I ran a check on the STC. They're part of the tinfoil hat squad."

"What's that?"

"They wear little tin hats, probably to keep aliens from controlling their minds," Booth explained sardonically. "It's hard to believe that Colonel Howard was part of an organization like that."

"Do they have access to planes?"

"Access? Are you kidding me? They actually have a border patrol division. Members fly their own private planes and do bi-monthly sky patrols in search of UFOs."

"Do they file flight plans?" Booth nodded and swallowed a mouthful of pad thai before handing her the file he'd brought with him.

"Look, two nights ago they had planes on UFO patrol within spitting distance of where Colonel Howard's body was found. I got them to agree to send a rep to talk to us at the Hoover tomorrow morning."

"Alright," she said, tossing the file back onto the coffee table and trading him a carton of fried rice for his pad thai. "Angela is trying to reconstruct the victim's clothes, and Zack is working on defleshing the bones."

"Reconstruct the _clothes_?"

"Yes, it was actually Cam's idea. She wanted to know the cause of each damaged portion."

"Um… The guy fell thousands of feet and literally exploded on the ground."

"Yes, but some of the damage doesn't fit with that scenario. Angela's trying to recreate the impact so that we can see what's left over."

"And that could tell us how he was killed," he said, nodding in comprehension. "Good idea."

"Yes. I was going to talk to Angela about Hodgins, but since she's busy, I decided to wait."

"That's probably for the best. Maybe she's not ready to talk about it yet."

"Yes… I just don't want her to think I'm too absorbed in my own happiness to notice that she's upset," Brennan shrugged. Booth smiled proudly, noting the change in his fiancée's level of perception.

"I'm sure she doesn't think that, Bones. When she's ready, she'll talk to you. You're a good friend."

Brennan looked at him in surprise and couldn't help but answer his soft smile with one of her own. How was it that he always seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear?

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Booth and Brennan met with the STC representative in the FBI conference room the following morning. At first glance, Adam Bahr seemed like an average guy, but it was soon clear to both partners that the man truly believed he'd been abducted by aliens multiple times. Booth wasn't sure how to respond without offending him, but Brennan didn't seem troubled by his beliefs. Booth supposed that she was simply taking it from an anthropological perspective in order to remain detached, but Booth had a slightly more difficult time keeping a straight face.

Bahr claimed that Colonel Howard had contacted them not only because he was interested in piloting their suborbital flights but also because he had 'seen something _up there_.' Bahr explained that Howard wasn't the first astronaut to have reported seeing visitors. Howard had withdrawn his interest about six weeks ago, but Bahr believed it was because the space agency convinced him to do so, possibly via his wife.

Once they concluded their interview with Bahr, Booth and Brennan made a trip back to Colonel Howard's home to speak to his wife again. Jean Howard admitted that her husband had indeed 'seen something,' but she claimed that the agency had given him a satisfactory explanation for what he'd seen. Although the agency had asked him to withdraw the report he'd made after the incident, Howard had refused. Jean claimed that the only reason her husband had gotten involved with the STC in the first place was so that he might have an opportunity to go into space again.

On their way back to the lab, Brennan suggested the possibility that the space agency might have been concerned that Colonel Howard could have been sharing sensitive information with the STC. However, when she got a chance to look at the bones firsthand, the discovery of something unexpected sent their investigation in another direction entirely.

Colonel Howard had undergone an experimental procedure designed to reverse bone loss, and it had started to work. His progress was the reason he had backed out of his arrangement with the STC, and when he shared his good news with his friend, Commander Adams, Adams had been less than thrilled. Angela's recreation of the victim's impact with the ground revealed several long gashes in the clothing that couldn't be explained by the fall. Instead, Brennan hypothesized that the damage had been caused by a spinning propeller, most likely rotating at a speed which would indicate the plane had been on the ground at the time.

A second sweep of the airplane hangar led them to the plane in question, which belonged to Commander Adams. Brennan quickly pointed out that it would have taken two people to clean up the mess, fly the plane, and dump the body, and Booth knew instinctively who Adams was protecting. Brennan winced in empathy at the expression on Jean Howard's face as Booth arrested her friend, Colleen Adams, for the murder of Jean's husband.

Booth and Brennan returned home that evening feeling drained but pleased to have closed another case. As they were getting ready for bed, Brennan's phone rang from its place on the nightstand. She picked it up, slightly surprised to see Angela's name on the caller ID.

"Ange?"

"Yeah, it's me." Angela's voice was melancholy and solemn. Brennan's forehead wrinkled in concern; her friend didn't sound like a woman who had just gotten engaged.

"What's wrong?"

"I just wanted a chat, I guess," Angela sighed. "I didn't tell you yesterday because I wanted to focus on your good news, but… Hodgins proposed. Actually, he proposed twice. Once last week and once at dinner tonight."

"Booth told me," Brennan admitted.

"How did Booth know?"

"Hodgins asked him for advice. Ange, there was no need to worry about offending me or… whatever it was you were concerned about. You could've told me yesterday."

"Yeah, I'm sorry… I wasn't going to keep it to myself forever, just… I don't know."

"So I assume you said no this time as well?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah. I just… I didn't feel that _feeling_ , you know? I mean, I love him _so much_ , but…"

Brennan was thoughtful for a moment, trying to come up with the right words to reassure her friend. She was fairly certain she knew what 'feeling' Angela was referring to. When Booth had knelt at her feet and asked her to share his life, Brennan had felt breathless, weightless, and overcome with love for him all at once. It had been as though her heart was both fluttering rapidly and completely silent at the same time. It was a paradox she still didn't understand, but it had been wonderful. She didn't blame Angela for wanting to feel that way too.

"I understand," Brennan assured her. "Like your heart is flying and yet paralyzed at the same time."

"Exactly," Angela agreed, her voice becoming more emotional. Booth tilted his head to one side, not quite able to follow Brennan's one-sided conversation but still rather impressed by her words. She didn't often speak that way about her 'metaphorical heart.'

"Then you did the right thing, Ange. If it doesn't feel perfect for you, then wait until it does. Hodgins loves you; I'm sure he won't give up."

"Yeah," she sniffled quietly. "I told him to keep trying. I do want to be with him, I just...need _more_."

Brennan spoke to Angela for a few more minutes before ending the call and settling into Booth's arms for the night.

"Is she okay?" Booth asked curiously.

"Yes, she'll be fine. She just didn't feel like it was the right moment to say yes, I suppose."

"Hmm. Well, I don't envy Hodgins right now. I don't know if I'd have had the guts to ask you if you hadn't brought it up first," he admitted, smiling into her clear blue eyes. "I'm so happy you said yes, Bones." She grinned back at him and pressed her lips softly to his.

"Me too."

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 **I love feedback! See you Friday! :)**


	32. Chapter 32

**Happy Friday! Thanks for the great feedback in its many forms; it is highly appreciated. For whatever reason, the site isn't letting me reply to a certain handful of people, so if I missed you, please accept my thanks. At least two people mentioned the lack of smut after the proposal, so let me reassure you - just because I don't write every encounter doesn't mean they're not still at it like rabbits. ;) Also, the poor guy had just been tortured, and I felt like writing around his leg wound would've been awkward. There's some T rated stuff in this one, and a full on scene in the next chapter. We're getting down to the end of Season 2, and like the last story, this one will go a bit beyond the finale.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 32

Much to Brennan's surprise, Angela spent the following week on some sort of wedding high. After their late night phone call, Brennan had decided to avoid the topic of marriage, anticipating that it might make her friend either sad or uncomfortable. Angela, however, had no such qualms, and she seemed to be carrying a fresh stack of bridal magazines every time Brennan saw her.

"You would think she'd want to avoid the subject," Brennan told her fiancé as they prepared to investigate a new crime scene. A set of skeletal remains had been found inside of an abandoned stone cottage not far outside of DC. The situation was unique because the remains were glowing, and the National Guard was in the process of quarantining the area until radiation levels could be tested.

"Maybe she wants to focus on something happy to get her mind off of her own problems," Booth suggested. "She loves you, and all the girly wedding stuff is right up her alley." He helped her out of her jacket so that she could don a radiation suit, and he stepped nervously into a suit of his own. The National Guard officer handed them each a potassium iodide pill, and Booth frowned as he watched Brennan knock it back. "Pills?"

"Yeah, it helps the thyroid block the absorption of radiation," Brennan answered, as though taking that sort of precaution was something they did every day. He swallowed his own pill and followed the officer through the woods toward the abandoned structure.

The interior of the house was dark, and judging by the state of the furniture, it appeared to have been sitting empty for the last decade or so. The officer's Geiger counter crackled ominously, and Booth looked at the man in alarm. He assured Booth that the radiation levels were perfectly normal thus far and pointed Brennan in the direction of the body. She walked toward it curiously, frowning in consternation through the barrier of her protective mask.

"Female," she announced as she crouched next to the remains. "Mid-twenties to early thirties… Caucasian."

"Looks like she's been there a while," Booth observed. The remains were almost completely skeletonized, but Brennan disagreed with his assessment.

"No, probably not that long. Rats and weasels work pretty quickly." A number of flies were buzzing around the remains as well, inclining Booth to leave his mask firmly in place even after the area was deemed clear of radiation.

"Why the hell is it glowing?" he asked the officer in confusion.

"I don't know," the man shrugged. "But it's your problem now." He disappeared through the open doorway, and the partners were left alone.

"Multiple stab wounds…"

" _Why is she glowing?"_ Booth repeated. Brennan gazed at the remains, utterly perplexed. It was not a feeling she enjoyed.

"I have no idea… No idea at all."

Booth raised his brows at her, surprised at the fact that she didn't know as well as by the fact that she admitted it. While she continued her analysis, Booth traipsed back through the woods to meet up with the forensic team that had just been cleared to enter the area. It took a few hours to get the body on its way back to the lab, and Brennan brought up the subject of the wedding once they were alone again in the SUV.

"So… It's alright with you that Angela wants to help plan things?" Brennan asked.

"Yeah, I mean, she's your best friend. That's what the maid of honor does, but…"

"But?"

"Just don't let her railroad you into anything _you_ don't want. I know how she can be sometimes." Brennan nodded thoughtfully, and he continued, "And I'd like to be involved as much as I can. I mean, I won't be as good at it, but I'd still like to help."

"Well, I may not be any good at it either," Brennan reminded him with a warm smile. "Angela has told me many times over the years that I don't know how to be a girl."

"Don't worry," he chuckled. "You're perfect."

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Booth and Brennan stopped for lunch on the way back to the lab, and Brennan was pleased to see that Zack had the remains laid out on the platform when she arrived. She and Zack got to work on the preliminary analysis, noting a number of stab wounds to the torso as well as defensive wounds on the left radius and ulna.

"Someone was angry," Brennan mused, glancing at Hodgins. "Still no answer for the luminescent bones?"

"It's not like we get a human light bulb in here every day," he told her, studying the monitor in front of him. "I've got mature first-instar phaenicia sericata about to molt, which indicates she's been dead approximately forty-eight hours." He turned back to the remains to scrape a small sample of glowing bone from the victim's skull as Booth mounted the platform steps behind him.

"Okay, squint squad, why does she look like a glowstick?"

"Why does everyone think my job is easy?" Hodgins scowled. Cam joined them a half second later, apparently having only heard Booth's observation.

"Wow, you weren't kidding. If we twirl her around, we can pretend we're at a rave. What's the good word, Hodgins?"

"Hey, I'm not a party trick!"

"Are you okay?" Cam asked, taken aback by his irritation. Zack answered for him.

"The bones probably remind him of Waitomo Cave."

"Not. True," Hodgins denied, looking as though he was greatly missing the rubber band he used to wear on his wrist.

"I've been there!" Brennan said, her eyes lighting up at the memory. "In New Zealand. It's filled with tiny glowing worms, and in the darkness, it looks like thousands of stars. Very romantic." Booth met her gaze with a quirked brow and a sour taste in his mouth, wondering who might've been with her to share that experience. Before he could say anything, Zack was speaking again.

"Yes, that's where he was going to take Angela for their honeymoon. If she'd said yes. Which she didn't." The team traded awkward glances amongst one another, and Hodgins grew even more frustrated.

"Okay, look, people. Angela and I are cool. Okay? But she's...complicated. I will figure her out though. Just like these electric bones. Let's just go back to work, okay?"

"Alright," Cam agreed, biting back a smile. The others shifted uncomfortably, and Cam decided to move things along. "Nice bracelet. Do you need the left hand?" she asked Brennan, tilting it from side to side experimentally.

"No, too fleshy," Brennan replied, looking slightly disgusted. "And no stab wounds."

Cam retreated to her autopsy room with the left hand but returned to the platform fairly quickly. She had been able rehydrate one of the victim's fingers enough to pull a print. Angela had joined the group in Cam's absence, and she pulled up the information on a nearby computer. Brennan's eyes widened when the victim's face appeared on the screen, and she could hear Booth groan from behind her.

"Carly Victor, twenty-nine," Angela announced. "Wait...Carly Victor?"

"Oh my God," Brennan mumbled, gazing sadly at Carly's picture for a moment before glancing back at Booth. They had met this woman only a few weeks ago, and they were both remembering Carly's vivacious personality. It was difficult to reconcile that person with the glowing set of bones now laying on the platform.

"She was that celebrity chef. Her place is impossible to get into. This is her myspace page" Angela said, not having noticed the reactions of her colleagues. She pulled up the web page, and when she did finally shift her eyes from the screen, she was surprised at the stricken expressions on their faces.

"Carly's Table, over on Calvert," Brennan said sadly. Being a chef would explain the cuts to her left hand...and the burns."

"I heard the mac-n-cheese is practically famous."

"She puts leeks in it...and little bits of pancetta. It was delicious," Brennan replied before turning an affectionate eye to her fiancé. "Booth insisted that men require steak though."

"Wait, you've been there?"

"Yeah, we went a few weeks ago. We met her…" Brennan trailed off, still looking at the screen. She pointed to an array of photographs on Carly's myspace page that didn't seem to be related to her restaurant. "Why are all of those pictures on her page?"

"They're friends, different communities she's joined, blogs, her husband, cooking videos…" Angela explained, clicking on a video of Carly in the kitchen of her restaurant. She was laughing with a blonde woman.

"Lots of knives in the kitchen," Booth pointed out. "Easy grab for one of these friends to stab her. Why don't you check the pages and see if anyone had a problem with her."

"I can't imagine anyone wanting to kill Carly," Brennan said, shaking her head sadly. Booth was inclined to agree with her, but the stab wounds indicated otherwise. Angela looked confused again, and Brennan continued, "She came out to see if we were enjoying our meal. We talked for a while. I was...supposed to go back and see her next week."

"Are you okay, Honey?" Angela asked, watching her friend in concern. It was rare for Angela to see Brennan so disoriented.

"Yeah… I'm just used to victims being strangers… We should tell her husband, Booth."

"Sure," he agreed softly. Booth followed her to her office and helped her switch out her labcoat for her jacket. "You sure you're okay, Bones? I can go talk to the husband on my own if you want."

"No, I'll be fine. It's just a surprise, that's all. Let's go."

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They found Dan Victor circulating amongst the tables, much as Carly had done the last time they'd been there, and it was clear from what they could overhear of his conversations that he was covering for his wife's absence. Brennan made the introductions, but Dan knew who she was without them. He gestured for the partners to follow him back to the kitchen where Brennan broke the news of his wife's death as gently as possible.

Dan seemed to be genuinely shocked and heartbroken, and his tears flowed freely as he discussed the last time he'd seen Carly. She and her friend Abby Singer had made a trip to the ATM with a large amount of cash that Carly hadn't wanted to leave lying around the restaurant. Dan was concerned that Abby was dead as well, but Booth assured him that they'd only found Carly at this point. Abby and her boyfriend Ben Michaelson were friends and business partners with Dan and Carly, and Abby had been responsible for organizing Carly's endorsements.

Ben had been gone for his weekend obligation with the National Guard and was expected to back shortly, but so far as Dan knew, Ben hadn't heard from Abby. Dan hadn't reported either of them missing because it wasn't uncommon for his wife to take off with her friend for an impromptu trip to Atlantic City in order to 'blow off some steam.' Dan gave a description of Abby's vehicle and handed Booth a photo of the four friends posing in front of it.

Booth called the Hoover from the SUV and gave the vehicle description to one of the agents organizing a search team. He dropped Brennan off at the lab, promising to return in a few hours to take her home since they'd ridden together to the crime scene that morning. She gave him a weary smile and a toe-curling goodbye kiss before climbing out of the vehicle.

In the meantime, Cam had managed to pull something organic from a cut on the victim's left hand, and she found Hodgins in Angela's office, doing some extensive nonverbal communication.

"Oh good Lord, you _have_ to stop mounting each other in the office," Cam complained. "Doesn't marriage destroy sex? Please, Angela, _say yes._ "

"We were working," Angela replied slyly.

"You were working _it._ A little professionalism would be nice, people. At least Booth and Dr. Brennan do a decent job of keeping their hands to themselves at work."

"What makes you think that?" Hodgins smirked happily. Angela was quick to agree.

"Yeah, Brennan didn't have blinds on her office windows until she started seeing Booth." She and Hodgins snickered appreciatively at Cam's alarmed expression. Cam quickly handed over the sample she'd taken, and Hodgins turned to leave, looking a bit sheepish.

"Did you find anything?" Cam asked Angela, gesturing to the monitor that was currently displaying Carly's web page.

"Yeah, I found out how to make braised beef, I found out that Carly loved sushi, I found out that-"

"Oh my God, _sushi!_ " Hodgins exclaimed, skipping quickly back to Angela's side and kissing her soundly. "Yes, that's it! You are brilliant! Check out all the sushi restaurants on her site!" He was gone two seconds later, and Cam exchanged a shrug of confusion with Angela.

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"The boyfriend seems like a pretty solid guy, at least at this point," Booth said as he filled Brennan's dinner plate and then his own. She flitted around the kitchen behind him, collecting a bottle of wine and two glasses. He'd done the cooking that night, but she had promised him some sort of surprise dinner once they closed the case.

"Did you check his story?"

"Yeah, he reported for duty Friday evening and wasn't released until earlier today," he shrugged. Brennan nodded, and her thoughts began to drift in a different direction as they sat down to their meal.

"Have you noticed anything odd about Zack lately?" she asked, frowning into her wineglass. Booth looked up from his plate with a wary expression.

"Is this a trick question?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. What do you mean by 'odd' exactly?"

"I noticed it this afternoon. He seemed… distracted."

"Bones, Zack's never really been… _not_ odd," he said, treading carefully. Booth knew how she felt about Zack Addy, and after her reaction to their victim's identity earlier that day, he felt it was probably best not to wind her up.

"He's awkward, yes," she admitted, "But not distracted. He's always very focused on his work."

"And this afternoon he wasn't?" Brennan shrugged, wondering now if she'd been imagining things. "Well… I don't know, Bones. I think if something's bothering him, he'll probably tell you about it when he's ready."

"I suppose." She picked at her food absently for a few minutes but eventually managed to finish her meal. They tidied the kitchen together, and Booth wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

"Bed?" he asked, burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply.

"It's still a little early," she argued, turning to face him and finding a boyish gleam of mischief in his eyes.

"I never said we were going to _sleep_." Brennan grinned back at him and wound her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. She felt the last of her tension ease away, and she began to lose herself in his touch, his kiss, his scent… His hands quickly found their way beneath her shirt, and she broke the kiss with a chuckle as he deftly unfastened her bra with one hand.

"Maybe we could try not to leave our clothes all over the house this time," she teased.

"Sounds good," Booth replied, and he stripped on her on the spot. "They look pretty good on the kitchen floor." Brennan laughed and helped him out of his own clothing. "Besides, we haven't done it in the kitchen in a while."

"It can't have been more than a few weeks since your little experiment with the ice cream." She gazed hungrily at his naked body, and she wondered idly if she would ever grow tired of looking at him. She didn't see it happening.

"Hmmm, that was _good_ ," he recalled, his reply muffled against her skin. "I think we're out of ice cream, but I've been wanting to try something else."

"What's that?" She gasped as his lips found her breasts, and his fingertips swept lightly over her center.

"Well, we may be out of ice cream, but we still have chocolate syrup…"

"We would definitely need a shower after that," Brennan replied, clutching his shoulders as his mouth moved purposefully lower over her abdomen.

"More like a bath, I think."

"In the jacuzzi?"

"You read my mind."

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Hodgins' sushi epiphany led him to a specific type of bacteria that had luminescent properties under the right conditions. If the bacteria had been present on the knife that had cut her, it would have circulated through her bloodstream and then been left on her bones as the flesh decomposed. This combined with the tissue that Cam had found as well as further examination of Carly's web page directed the investigation to a particular sushi restaurant. The sushi chef, Ernie Summers, had a picture of himself in his kitchen, cooking alongside Carly.

When Booth and Brennan entered Sushi Beat, they were greeted in unison by a line of chefs, and Booth was surprised to see an irritated expression on his partner's face. She leaned in to speak to him in low tones.

"Can you believe this place?"

"Yeah, fresh toro today," he shrugged, not following her mood.

"They've cherry-picked the most marketable elements of a very complex and vibrant culture and then repackaged them to turn a profit. It's awful."

"Yeah, well, so is murder, okay?" Booth replied. _Really not the time or place to unleash the angry anthropologist,_ he grumbled inwardly. "Just stay focused."

Booth stepped up to the sushi bar and flashed his badge, avoiding Brennan's eyes as he accepted Ernie's offer of free food. Ernie confirmed that he and Carly had been high school sweethearts and had recently reconnected online. She had been in his restaurant the day before she had disappeared and had cut herself with one of his knives while he was teaching her how to make sushi. Ernie reluctantly allowed Brennan to confiscate his knives so that she could compare them to Carly's stab wounds, but the only match the team could make was to a cut on her left hand.

"Are you still torturing Hodgins?" Brennan asked Angela as they made their way from the Bone Room to her office.

"He loves it," Angela replied playfully. "I'd rather talk about _your_ wedding though. Did you look at any of those magazines I gave you last night?"

"No, um… I was busy."

"You mean you were _getting_ busy?" Angela's salacious grin was contagious, and Brennan avoided her eyes as she changed the subject.

"Isn't it difficult for you to talk about weddings when you've been so confused about marriage lately?"

"Not really," she shrugged. "It's nice to focus on something else, even if it is related. Besides, I always thought that you'd be the one with all of the doubts, and _I_ would be the level-headed one about this stuff." They laughed together as they entered Brennan's office.

"Ange, if you're not ready to marry Hodgins, then there's nothing wrong with that. It doesn't mean you can't still love him and let him love you." Angela regarded her friend curiously for a few moments before she spoke again.

"Do you feel different? Now that you're engaged? I mean, if anyone had told me a couple of years ago that _you_ would be getting married, I'd have had them committed," she laughed. It was clear to her that Brennan was every bit as in love with Booth as she had been for the past year and a half, but there did seem to be something new in the way her eyes gleamed at the mention or sight of her fiancé. Brennan smiled and considered the question for a moment, gauging her own feelings thoughtfully.

"I'm excited and happy, but I'm not fundamentally different," Brennan shrugged. "I'm still the same person, still just as rational as I was before… I just never had a reason to consider marriage before Booth. I always thought that a man would try to use marriage as a means of proclaiming ownership or control, but Booth would never do that. And getting married makes him happy...so it makes me happy too."

"Wow," Angela said softly, shaking her head in wonder. Before either of them could say anything else, they were interrupted by Brennan's cell. It was Booth, calling to tell her that he was on his way to pick her up.

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"Ernie's story checked out," Booth told her as she climbed into the passenger seat. "Dan's an alcoholic, Carly took out a restraining order on Dan, and Dan took out a two-million-dollar life insurance policy on her."

"Motive may not be my strong suit, but even I can see where you're going with that. We should check the knives at Carly's restaurant too."

When they arrived at Carly's Table, they were surprised to find it quiet and empty. The only people in the kitchen were Dan Victor and Ben Michaelson, and they appeared to be going over their finances.

"You guys had to shut down, huh?" Booth asked evenly.

"Yeah… Carly's without Carly doesn't make much sense," Dan replied.

"Look, man, his wife was murdered, and my girlfriend's missing. Money is the last thing on our minds," Ben said heatedly.

"Most of our staff live paycheck to paycheck, you know? We have to pay them," Dan added bleakly. Brennan was only half-listening to the conversation as her eyes surveyed the room for anything out of place or unusual. Her gaze fell upon a set of knives mounted to the wall, and she interrupted them to ask about the one that was missing.

"Where's the other knife?"

"I don't know," Dan shrugged. "It's been missing for years. Carly actually got it as a gift from the first chef that she worked for."

"Or maybe it's been missing since you found out about Carly and Ernie Summers," Booth suggested. Ben looked at Dan in confusion.

"Ernie Summers? The sushi guy?"

"I'd like to take this set of knives," Brennan told them. Ben agreed immediately, but Dan denied her request and became angry as he spoke to his friend.

"These bastards cannot come in here and start accusing me…"

"Alright, Carly was meeting up with Ernie secretly. You assumed the worst, confronted her, one thing led to another…" Booth led the discussion in his usual way, keeping a wary eye on Dan for the temper he knew would explode at any moment.

"Carly was involved with him?" Ben asked Dan, looking heartbroken, but Booth kept talking.

"Maybe Abby heard you fighting, and she tried to get in the middle of it-"

"You son of a bitch!" Dan shouted at Booth, rushing toward him with arms outstretched. Booth caught him skillfully and turned him around, slamming him face first onto the work surface and holding him in place as he struggled. "Get off me!"

"You know, I'd back down if I were you," Brennan advised. "He shot a clown once." Booth threw her an exasperated look, and she gave him a tiny, mischievous smile. He snorted quietly and shook his head, refocusing on the man who had stopped struggling against his hold.

"You're good?"

"Yes, I'm good," Dan spat. Booth released him but continued to eye him in wary contempt.

"We know about the restraining order and your drinking."

"What'd you do Dan?" Ben asked, his watery eyes wide with alarm. Dan insisted that he and Carly were having problems but that he'd gone into rehab. "You were drinking last week, Dan, before I left!"

"Why didn't you tell us about that insurance policy?" Booth directed the question at Dan, but it was Ben who answered.

"This restaurant would be nothing without Carly. We have investors; we had to protect them. Take the knives. Take anything you want." Dan began to argue, but Ben cut him off. "Where's Abby?"

As if in answer to his question, Booth's phone rang from his pocket, and the conversation was remarkably short. He snapped his phone shut and looked at Brennan.

"Helicopter spotted Abby's car."

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Ben rode with them to the scene, but Dan stayed behind. When they arrived, Abby's car was being towed back onto the road from where it had been wedged into some dense foliage. Emergency responders and police officers turned toward Booth and Brennan as they approached the vehicle. Brennan urged Ben to stay back until they could assess the situation.

"You find her?" Booth asked one of the emergency responders.

"No one is in the vehicle, sir."

"How about the trunk?" Booth suggested, his jaw setting firmly as he glanced at Brennan. They hadn't checked the trunk yet, and Booth shouted a request for a crowbar. Brennan sprinted toward them with a cold, hollow sensation in her chest.

 _No…_ She watched as the trunk was pried open to reveal the unconscious body of Abby Singer, and Brennan mentally calculated the number of hours the woman had been in the trunk as she felt for a pulse with trembling hands.

"She's alive," Brennan announced before shouting, "Get an air evac here right away!"

Ben rushed toward the car in a panic, and Brennan walked several paces away from the crowd, drawing in deep lungfuls of oxygen as she tried to compose herself. Memories of her own experiences in the trunks of vehicles flashed through her mind, and she pushed them back, fighting the urge to vomit.

She felt a hand on the side of her face, and she opened her eyes to see Booth standing in front of her. He touched his forehead to hers and held her gaze, and Brennan raised her metaphorical walls: not around herself, but around _both_ of them. She had been near hyperventilation, but her breathing gradually slowed as she lost herself in his warm brown eyes. The buzz of emergency vehicles and the flashing of red and blue lights faded away until it was just the two of them, standing on the side of the road with their hearts beating in unison. When at last she had stopped shaking, he folded her into his arms, ignoring the curious eyes of the emergency workers.

"Thank you," she said tremulously, her words muffled by his shirt.

"No worries, Bones. I've got your back, just like you've got mine."

Booth held her tightly and recalled his own panic when they'd been in the casino in Vegas. She had anchored him in much the same way, and it was a relief to be able to return the favor. He loved that she needed him just as much as he needed her.

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Abby's vehicle was towed to the Jeffersonian, and Cam went over it with Hodgins. It appeared that Carly had indeed been killed inside the car, but murder wasn't the only thing that had happened there. Cam found evidence of semen and vaginal contributions on the back seat. Hodgins collected particulates and returned to his office feeling disgusted and angry. He could identify with Abby Singer's mental state all too well, and he threw his full efforts into solving the case.

Angela called Brennan into her office to discuss the missing knife from the set Brennan had confiscated from Carly's restaurant. Unfortunately, it didn't match the parameters for the murder weapon; the knife that had killed Carly had been sharper.

"Is Hodgins okay?" Brennan asked her quietly. Angela tilted her head sympathetically.

"Yeah, I think so. He's focused. How about you?"

"I wasn't for a few minutes, but Booth was there. I'm fine now. I just want to figure out what happened."

"Do you really think her husband killed her? I mean, I guess it makes sense that he would spare Abby…"

"I don't know… I can't imagine ever being in a state of mind to physically hurt the person I love. It just doesn't make sense to me," Brennan replied, shaking her head sadly.

"It's because _that's_ not love. What you have with Booth, what I have with Hodgins… that commitment? That feeling like you're the only two people in the world? It's perfect. _Relationships_ aren't perfect, but…that kind of love _is_."

Brennan smiled at her, wondering just how much longer Angela intended to keep Hodgins waiting. The direction of their relationship seemed almost inevitable at this point. Before Brennan could voice the thought aloud, Zack walked into Angela's office. He explained that Carly's skull fracture appeared to have been caused by the dashboard of Abby's vehicle. The damage to the dash matched the bone trauma.

Meanwhile, Hodgins was on the platform with Booth, attempting to explain the various uses of ceramics. The particulates he'd found in the trunk of Abby's car had turned out to be a very hard, white ceramic that had most likely been used for industrial purposes. Booth followed his explanation with a nod of understanding and was surprised when Hodgins changed the subject abruptly.

"Do- Hmm…"

"What?" Booth asked curiously.

"No, I'm not gonna ask you again."

"About the ceramic stuff?"

"No. Angela. No more, I'm done."

"Oh… You're done with Angela?" Booth asked skeptically.

"No, but… Hey, I fell in love with a free spirit, and if getting married makes her feel trapped or something, then I'm… I'm just gonna have to deal with it," Hodgins said quickly, his tension making it clear that he wasn't 'dealing with it' very well.

"Right, so you don't want to get married anymore."

"Sure I do, but Angela doesn't. So I'm just gonna let it go."

Booth frowned, remembering the phone call he'd overheard between Brennan and Angela, and although he knew it was probably smarter not to get involved any further, he really did want to see his friends happy rather than simply 'letting it go.'

"Look, Hodgins, don't give up on the idea, okay? Keep trying, but maybe… Don't go the traditional route. I mean, you're really not a traditional kind of guy, so maybe I gave you the wrong advice with that. Do what feels right for you, and chances are, it'll feel right for her too."

Hodgins raised his eyebrows in surprise, and he smiled widely at Booth as he processed his words, clearly amazed at Booth's turn toward the sentimental. He threw his arms around the agent in an exuberant hug.

"Thanks, man!"

"Alright, I'm just, uh… gonna go solve a murder," Booth grunted uncomfortably. As he left a still-grinning Hodgins on the platform, one of his agents called to let him know that Abby had regained consciousness.

"Bones!" he shouted, his eyes scanning the lab for a sign of his partner. Her office was empty, so he checked Angela's. "Abby Singer's awake, let's go," he told her, pulling her from her seat.

"There you go abducting me again," she said, rolling her eyes for his benefit. He gave her his best charm smile.

"Aw, come on. You like it."

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Abby Singer looked weak and vulnerable, face and arms marred by scratches, but she managed to fight her tears long enough to give Booth and Brennan a summary of the events from the night Carly had been killed. She stated that Carly and Dan had been fighting about their intended trip to the ATM, that an unknown person had attacked Carly from inside the car as they were driving, and that she herself had been knocked unconscious in the struggle. Her next memory was waking up in the darkness of the trunk, and Brennan failed to suppress her shudder at the image that invaded her mind. Booth touched her back surreptitiously, silently offering his support. She rallied quickly and directed her attention back to the woman in the hospital bed.

Booth was disappointed at the lack of leads; he'd been hoping that Abby would have some information to push their case in the right direction. As much as he empathized with her traumatized state, he couldn't help but feel that something was off about her story. Booth couldn't put his finger on it, but he hoped that the clarity he needed would find him. Sometimes these things would only come to him when he stopped chasing them.

On the way back to the lab, Brennan got a call from Cam. The vaginal fluid on the back seat had indeed been a match for Carly, but the seminal fluid match had come as a surprise: Ben Michaelson. Booth had him brought in for interrogation and did his best to throw the guy off his game. Ben admitted to nothing and flatly denied having any hand in Carly's death. He paled at the mention of the back seat evidence, and he asked for a lawyer not long after it was implied that he had raped Carly.

Abby seemed appalled at the suggestion that Ben could have been behind all of it, and she reluctantly gave Brennan access to her medical records. Brennan was interested in determining exactly how Abby's wrist had been broken, particularly since the woman was still hazy on the details. As they drove away from the hospital for the second time that day, Hodgins called Brennan to report that he'd found the murder weapon.

"It was a ceramic knife," he said triumphantly. Brennan relayed the information to Booth before putting the phone on speaker. "Zirconium oxide. Super sharp and easy to shatter. In this case, if you shatter it into a million pieces, no one knows it's a knife. Except me, of course. Using Angela's program, I matched the wounds to the blade."

Brennan smiled at the self-satisfied grin she could hear in Hodgins' voice. Before she could reply, however, Cam's voice came through the phone as well.

"Either that trunk was packed with invisible pillows, or Abby's lying to us."

"Why?" Booth asked, his intuition tingling again.

"Booth?" Cam sounded confused at the sound of his disembodied voice.

"Yeah, Booth. Talk to me, squints. As close to English as possible."

"According to the medical report, Abby's got bumps and bruises, yes, but they aren't at all consistent with the way she would've been thrown around in that trunk. She should've had more broken bones," Cam explained.

"Is there any evidence of Carly being raped?" Brennan asked. Both Zack and Cam denied finding any signs of forced intercourse. "But the wound on the ribs… the directionality was left to right."

The rest of the squints gave cries of epiphany, even Angela, and Booth was frustrated to once again be the only one with no idea what was going on.

"English! Remember? How does Ben figure into all this?"

"He doesn't," Brennan said, shaking her head with the same victorious expression Booth was picturing on the rest of them at the moment.

"The injuries fit if Abby was driving when the sudden stop occurred," Zack explained. Booth was still having difficulty following, and Hodgins spoke up next.

"Look, I'm Abby. You're Carly."

"Why am I always the murder victim?" Zack whined.

"Sit."

"Zack's always the murder victim," Brennan snickered quietly. Booth gave her a wry grin and pictured Zack and Hodgins re-enacting the scenario on the platform.

"I'm just driving along," Hodgins said happily. "I undo Carly's seatbelt, slam on the brakes, and she goes flying into the dash… Go. Go! Fly into the dash!"

"The concussion disorients me…" Zack trailed off vaguely.

"Okay, don't overdo it, sport," Hodgins advised. Booth was growing impatient.

"Okay, what are we missing here?"

"The Stooges?" Cam offered. Brennan could read his irritation and tried to clarify things.

"Abby's scaphoid fracture was right to left, which means she could've received that break while stabbing Carly."

"Yes!" Hodgins shouted excitedly.

"I was wearing a punk bracelet, lots of metal," Zack pointed out, still playing the victim - literally. "That could easily fracture the scaphoid." The sounds of a scuffle could be heard through the phone, and Hodgins cried out in mock pain.

"Okay," Booth acknowledged, feeling the need to keep them on point. "We know that Ben had sex with Carly in the back seat of that car...but you didn't find any evidence of rape."

"So the sex they had was consensual," Brennan finished.

"This part will be left up to the imagination," Hodgins said awkwardly. Booth pointed out that there was no way to tell when the sexual activity had taken place, and Angela jumped into the conversation.

"Ben and Carly were having an affair," she surmised.

"And they did it in Abby's car?" Cam said, sounding disturbed. "No wonder she was pissed."

Booth reminded them that Abby had been in charge of Carly's endorsements, and the ceramic knife had been sent to Carly under those terms, so Abby must've known about it. Hodgins spoke up again and announced that Abby must have killed Carly, pulled her out of the car, dragged her to the abandoned house, destroyed the murder weapon and then driven the car into the ravine.

"And then she locks _herself_ in the trunk, thinking the car will be found quickly," Booth added. "But there were no hikers in the area to find her because she didn't count on the rain."

"Let's go back, Booth," Brennan said, prompting him to nod in agreement and make a wide U-turn in the direction of the hospital.

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Abby Singer broke down and reluctantly admitted to killing her best friend, and once Booth had mirandized her, they left her handcuffed to her hospital bed with a uniformed officer posted outside the door. Booth and Brennan headed home, feeling that familiar mixture of exhaustion and accomplishment.

Brennan delivered on her promise to surprise Booth with a special dinner, and he smiled like a delighted little boy at the sight of the mac-n-cheese that she had made from Carly's recipe.

"Wow!" Booth giggled, and Brennan felt almost giddy at the sound of it. "Wow, baby, this looks fantastic!"

"Yeah? Really?"

"You shouldn't have… All this work, just for me?" he asked, gesturing to their meal as well as the elegant setting she'd put together, complete with candles and soft music.

"You're worth it," she said with a smile that was almost shy. "It wasn't that much. You can help clean up." Booth grinned happily and took an experimental bite of his dinner. He seemed to melt on the spot.

"Mmmm… This is unbelievable."

"You like it?"

"I'd like to be alone with it," he teased.

"Careful, you're going to make me jealous," Brennan laughed. Her phone buzzed from her pocket, and she pulled it out to make sure it wasn't work-related. She smiled brightly when she read Angela's text.

 _:I'm getting married!_

Brennan turned the phone so that Booth could read it, and he shared her happy smile.

"Guess Hodgins figured it out, huh?"

"I guess so. I wonder how he finally convinced her."

"Eh, she didn't need all that much convincing, Bones. It's pretty obvious that she loves him. He just had to do it right."

They discussed half a dozen topics before their meal was finished, ranging from Angela's wedding fever to Parker's upcoming field trip. Brennan teased him again about his prior insistence on meat, suggesting that perhaps he had a future as a vegetarian after all, and he shook his head indulgently.

"You know, we're really going to have to do something about that smart mouth of yours, baby," Booth joked, his eyes sparkling provocatively at her. Brennan responded with a salacious grin worthy of her newly-engaged best friend.

"I can think of a number of things…"

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 **Side note: was anyone else cussing at their TV last night? I sure was. Reviews make me smile!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Hello again! This was a chapter that just really poured out of me, so hopefully it flows as well for you as it seemed to for me. Max is back, and I'm giving them a hell of a lot more conversation than the show did. Next chapter will end the season, and then we're on to a bit of AU stuff before the end of this story. I'm posting this a bit early because I know I'll be staying up late writing tonight, and I won't want to get out of bed to update tomorrow morning. :) I doubt anyone minds though.**

 **Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts. :)**

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Chapter 33

"Booth," she groaned, pleading. "We'll be late." His hands didn't pause in their efforts to slip her lace panties over her hips, and his lips remained firmly attached to her neck as he grunted stubbornly in response to her admonition. Brennan gasped when his fingertips brushed against her clit, her own hands grasping his forearms to steady herself.

"Bones, there's only so much temptation I can take. _This_ ," he said, gesturing to her state of half-dress, "is way beyond my capabilities. For Christ's sake, Bones, _stockings and garters?_ Are you trying to kill me?"

"Death by orgasm?" she teased, shuddering as his fingers worked their magic. "I suppose there are worse ways to go."

Brennan had showered first and had been in the process of getting dressed when he ended his own shower. She'd discovered a stain on the blouse she'd been planning on wearing, and as she had stood at the closet trying to come up with other options, he had emerged from the bathroom. His skin was still slightly damp, there was a towel wrapped around his waist, and he smelled incredible. Temptation was a frequent threat to punctuality for both of them.

"We could always call in," he suggested with a devious grin, his free hand pinching her nipple gently.

"Booth!" Her tone was half-chastising and half-begging. She turned to face him, her hands going quickly to each side of his head, and she pulled him down into a heated kiss. Brennan knew there was no point in arguing about it; she'd been ready for him from the moment he'd wrapped his arms around her from behind and enveloped her in his intoxicating scent.

He pulled her backward toward the bed, twisting at the last moment so that she landed on the mattress first. Their tongues mated wildly, and Booth hastily removed the towel from his waist. He was equally ready for her, and she wasted no time in maneuvering herself into position beneath him. He entered her in one smooth stroke, pushing the air from her lungs in a cry of pleasure.

Their hips moved in synchrony at a pace which left them both breathless and struggling for coherency. Brennan writhed beneath him, reaching down to palm his buttocks and pulling him harder against her with each thrust. Within minutes, she was shattering, and the exquisite pleasure of her walls spasming around him sent him over the edge as well. It took them nearly as long to come down from their shared climax as it had taken to reach it, and they lost themselves in slow, soft kisses for a while longer.

"We really do need to go to work," she said ruefully.

"I can think of about twenty other things I'd rather be doing with you today," he groaned, his lips now having progressed to her jaw and neck. "Doing _to_ you…"

"Twenty? You're rather ambitious today."

"Not just today," he smirked. She chuckled before reluctantly pushing him off of her.

"Come on. If I don't show up at the lab, Angela will just come here. She's focused."

"Yeah, well, if we were determined to plan a big wedding in less than a week, I suppose we'd have to be pretty focused too. Though the term I had in mind was 'crazy…'" Brennan stood and walked back to her closet, intent on wearing the first thing her fingers touched.

"I agree; it does seem impractical. If I keep the stockings on, can I trust you to behave yourself today?" she asked, eyeing the skirt she'd been planning to wear. Booth expression twisted comically as though he were giving the matter a great deal of thought.

"Maybe?"

Brennan sighed, exasperated but amused, and opted for dress pants. She knew there was no way Angela would leave her alone for long enough for any trips to the supply closet or extended breaks behind the closed blinds and locked door of her office. _Unless, of course, we have…_ Her thoughts were interrupted by the simultaneous ringing of both of their cell phones, and she stiffened in surprise at the uncanny timing of a new case. She and Booth answered their phones and had brief conversations about a new crime scene, and they ended their calls at almost the same time. Booth sighed in chagrin, watching her remove her stockings.

"Looks like we'll have more on our plates today than a wedding-crazed Angela."

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The crime scene was an odd one, at least in Booth's opinion. Brennan seemed to take it in stride, as she generally did, but Booth couldn't wait to leave. They were called to an abandoned warehouse that was partially flooded. The officer on the scene was one they'd encountered in the past, and he greeted them politely. He explained that the building had been partially drained in an effort to find a knife that a criminal had tossed into the water during a foot pursuit. When the water levels began to recede, the knife wasn't the only thing they'd found. Along with a number of guns, other weapons, and syringes, they had discovered a body submerged on the lowest level. The area still retained a foot or two of standing water, and Brennan had to wade across the large space in order to reach the remains. They were inside of a shopping cart that was turned on its side.

"Small," Booth noted sadly. "Kid?" Brennan squatted down next to the shopping cart and shone her flashlight over the remains.

"Female. Pelvic girdle and skull sutures suggest pre-adolescent," she confirmed with a sigh. She spotted something in the water and met Booth's gaze. "A child's pencil case."

"How long has she been dead?" he asked, scribbling the information onto his notecards. Brennan glanced at the police officer.

"Does this freeze over in the winter?"

"Yeah. Solid."

"It's possible she was placed here as long ago as last fall."

"Cause of death?" Booth asked.

"Looks like a gunshot wound to the back of the head. Nothing larger than a .22 caliber," she replied. Booth asked the officer if they'd found any .22s amongst the guns they'd pulled from the water, and the man confirmed that there had been two. Brennan looked more closely at the victim's hand and pulled a small stone from its grasp. There were three words written on the rock, and she returned to Booth's side to show him.

"'I love you,'" he read aloud. Brennan frowned at the implications.

"You said that pedophiles can delude themselves into thinking they love their victims…"

They exchanged a troubled glance and made the arrangements for transport. Brennan changed out of her boots and jumpsuit in the back of the SUV, eager to fully remove herself from the crime scene in every way possible. Booth held her hand as they drove back to the lab, already planning a phone call to his son later that afternoon.

"You know, we haven't talked much about plans for the summer," Booth said, hoping to redirect their focus onto something pleasant.

"That's true. Do you know which weeks Parker will be with us?"

"Not yet. You have that anthropology conference in Chicago, right?"

"Yes, in July. It's just for a few days, but I've committed to being the keynote speaker. I haven't been back to the campus in years, but the coordinator was very persistent," Brennan said, recalling the handful of communications she'd had with the young man.

"Okay, well let me know the dates, and I'll get the time off work. Maybe we can even take Parker with us. There's a lot to do in Chicago."

"You'd want to come?" she asked in surprise. "I'd imagine you would find the conference rather boring."

"Maybe, but being a keynote speaker is a big deal, Bones. It's an honor; of course I want to be there." He smiled affectionately at her, and she grinned back, touched by his willingness to subject himself to hours of droning about a subject he wasn't really interested in. As she reconsidered the trip with the additions of Booth and Parker, Brennan found that she was almost looking forward to the time away.

"Okay. Well, we can plan some surprises for Parker's birthday. The trip is the week before, and I'm sure there are some things he'd like to do in Chicago. There are several wonderful museums, an aquarium, Navy Pier…"

"Sounds good. I'll start working on Rebecca." Under the terms of their new agreement, Booth was entitled to several weeks with his son, though they didn't necessarily have to be consecutive. A three week interruption in routine was a lot for an almost-six-year-old to process, and Booth figured that the time would most likely be broken up into shorter segments.

"Thanks, Booth," she smiled. The prospect of a trip together had brightened her outlook considerably. He smiled back and brought her hand to his lips.

"Anytime, Bones."

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Booth dropped her off at the lab and returned with lunch a few hours later. She had finished the x-rays of the victim, and Zack was working on defleshing the bones. Hodgins was analyzing water samples as well as the contents of the pencil case, and Angela was doing her best not to allow a child's murder investigation to bring down her mood. After Booth and Brennan finished their lunch, she pulled the x-rays up on her computer screen, and he leaned over her shoulder for a better look.

"Do you even know what you're looking at?" she teased him, surprised by his apparent interest.

"I'm looking at the C1 vertebrae, and it looks…weird." He glanced at her to see if he was correct and grinned at the surprise in her expression. Booth pressed his lips firmly to _her_ C1 vertebrae, and she shuddered.

"There are indications of...arthritis," she moaned, distracted by his persistent mouth. "Like she spent a lot of...time each day looking up…Mmmm."

"Some on the C2 also, I think," he murmured, his warm breath raising goosebumps on the back of her neck. She gave up her attempts to focus on work and turned her head to kiss him properly.

"You know, if we're quick and _very_ quiet, we could close the blinds for a little while," Brennan said temptingly. Booth's squint talk never failed to get her going.

"Hmm. Quick, we can do," he replied, kissing her softly. "But you have a real issue with _quiet_."

"Do not." _Kiss_

"Do too." _Kiss_

"Am I interrupting?" a familiar voice said from the doorway. They turned in shock to see Max Keenan smiling cheerfully at them as he entered the office. "Hey, baby."

"Dad?"

"Booth," Max greeted him, still grinning.

"Dad, what are you doing here? How did you even get in here?"

"I heard you were getting married."

"Yes, but…" Brennan glanced at Booth, who looked extremely uncomfortable. Booth weighed his options but knew he really had no choice in the matter; he would have to arrest Max right in front of her. _Son of a bitch_ , he cursed inwardly. _Does he really not get what this does to her?_

"Max… You know I have to arrest you, right?" Booth asked. Max's face fell in disappointment.

"I was hoping we could get a drink or something before this part."

Brennan met Booth's eyes, and she saw the reluctance in them. In an instant, she understood his ambivalence, and she shook her head dismissively.

"It's okay, Booth. Do what you have to do." She held his gaze for a moment longer, trying to convey her complete trust in him. She knew full well that Booth had stopped investigating Max's disappearance after the incident with Gallagher, and even before that, he hadn't been putting his full efforts into it. They both knew that her father's arrest could very likely lead to his death, but that was on Max. Not Booth. He sighed unhappily and crossed the room toward Max.

"Max Keenan, you're under arrest as an escaped felon…" Booth read Max his rights, doing his best to maintain a neutral tone.

"We'll talk later," Max told Brennan as he was cuffed and led from the room. "Kisses, baby."

Brennan stood frozen in place, watching through her office windows as Booth and Max disappeared through the sliding glass doors. _What the hell was he thinking?_ _Why would he show up here?_

"Uh, Sweetie? Was that your dad?" Angela appeared in the doorway, looking concerned. Brennan nodded, still a bit stunned. "Are you okay?" Brennan nodded again and pulled herself together. Angela frowned in concern as she watched Brennan's walls go up.

"Yes. Let's just get back to work, please."

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Booth watched Max from behind the two-way mirror as the older man sat alone in the interrogation room. He was waiting on some information from Caroline before entering the room, and he took the opportunity to simply observe. Booth had interacted with many people across that metal table over the years. They came in all kinds, one could say; their appearances varied as much as their demeanors. And over time, Booth had learned to read them all.

Max Keenan, however, was something of an enigma. Booth understood what motivated him, and he knew full well that Max was guilty of murder several times over. But it was Max's cool, confident facade that intrigued Booth. He had a hard time believing that the man could truly be so blasé about being arrested for murder, particularly since he'd seen the same coping technique employed time and again by Max's own daughter. Without the colored contact lenses Max had been wearing with his priest disguise, his resemblance to Brennan was easier to perceive, even with the surgical alterations. Their eyes were precisely the same shade of blue, and for some reason the sight of it angered Booth even further.

It was a glaring reminder that this man was indeed her father. The man who had abandoned her and who now seemed determined to hurt her once again with his repeated appearances. Booth still had a measure of respect for Max, and he could certainly identify with his motives, but the pain he was causing Brennan made him angry. He didn't understand how Max couldn't see what he was doing to her.

Caroline blustered through the doorway with her usual command of the room and informed him that the man on the other side of the window was not Max Keenan. Booth stared at her in disbelief.

"What do you mean that's not Max Keenan?"

"Cher, you know that's Max Keenan, and _I_ know that's Max Keenan. But to the rest of the world, that man's a hard-working electrician from Coos Bay, Oregon named Art McGregor."

"That 'electrician' was a bank robber for fifteen years and murdered two FBI Agents."

"Only one was still an agent at the time of his demise," Caroline reminded him.

"The guy was a Deputy Director!"

"And a crooked, murdering son of a bitch...not to speak ill of the dead." Caroline handed Booth 'Art McGregor's' wallet. "Driver's license, credit card, tax returns… And this library card was issued eleven years ago."

"Complete history?" Booth asked, utterly amazed.

"Yes. We'll keep digging, but I don't know…"

Booth took the files from her and slammed the door on his way out of the room. _You have got to be kidding me…_ When he entered the room, Max looked up at him with a pleasant smile and held his cuffed hands upward as if in supplication. Booth tossed the files and wallet onto the table.

"Tell me something, Max," he said calmly, uncuffing his future father-in-law. "On a job site, what's the most hazardous classification of an electrician?"

"Class one, division one," Max answered promptly. "You planning on making a career change?"

Booth pursed his lips and used the handcuffs to pull Max's glass of water toward him. Max chuckled in apparent amusement.

"You checking out my prints?"

"Max, you know… I like you, and I hate to hurt Bones, but it's my job to catch you." Booth paused to give Max a derisive smile. "And I'm very good at my job."

"Well, you'd have to be in order to work with my daughter," Max said proudly. He stood and extended his hand. "What do you say? Shake hands with an old con? Or is that bad for the FBI image? We are going to be family, after all."

Booth didn't give two shits about his 'FBI image,' but he kept his hands planted firmly on his hips, struggling with his conflicting feelings for Max Keenan.

"You abandoned her as a child. You don't think she feels that every time you pop in and out of her life?" Something in Max's expression tightened, and Booth knew his words had found their mark. _Good_. As much as Booth might respect the guy, Max was still hurting his daughter, and that was unacceptable. The tension in Max's features quickly melted into another award-winning smile.

"You're just saying that so I'll hit you," he laughed. "Then you've got a reason to lock me up. Twenty years ago, that would've worked."

"No, I'm not locking you up, Max. At least not today. But before you run off again, you're gonna give Bones some answers." It wasn't a request. Max regarded him with an odd mixture of interest and respect, and for a brief moment, his lighthearted facade was replaced by something resembling affection.

"You're good for her, you know. I'm glad she has you." His tone was straightforward and honest, and Booth knew he meant it. Max patted him on the back and left the room.

Booth sighed and decided to stay put long enough for Max to leave the building. He was overwhelmed once more by his own ambivalence toward the man. Max Keenan was a complex person, to be sure. The dutiful FBI Agent side of Booth found Max's criminal nature abhorrent, but the rest of him struggled to reconcile the gratitude and respect he felt for the man. Booth frowned, belatedly remembering that his confusion had to be nothing compared to Brennan's. He was her _father_.

Booth called her as he made his way back to his office, feeling the need to check on her. He'd hated leaving her alone in her office with that lost little girl expression on her face.

"Brennan," she answered promptly. He guessed that she hadn't bothered to check the caller ID.

"Hey, Bones."

"Hi," she said, her voice softening and changing pitch slightly. "What happened?"

"I cut him loose. He had a solid identity that Caroline hasn't been able to disprove yet."

"Oh… Okay." Brennan paused, not sure what else to say about the matter. She decided to change the subject instead. "The bones are clean, but we don't really have anything definitive yet. Zack volunteered to stay late tonight, so I'm going to head home soon. Do you still have that meeting with Cullen this afternoon?"

"Yeah, but hopefully it won't go too late. I'll be home as soon as I can," he promised, only a little surprise by her deflection. They exchanged their 'I Love You's, and Booth released a sigh of defeat as he hung up, hoping he'd be able to get her to open up later that evening.

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When Brennan got home, she was mildly surprised to see Max waiting outside of her house next in an unfamiliar vehicle. She wondered idly if it had been stolen.

"I suppose I should thank you for not breaking in this time," she said sarcastically once he'd gotten out of his vehicle to greet her. He smiled cheerfully at her as he walked up the path toward her.

"Well, I wouldn't want to give that fiancé of yours a real reason to arrest me."

Brennan rolled her eyes a little but gestured him inside. She invited him to sit at the kitchen table and offered him something to drink. He accepted a glass of water and expected her to pour one for herself as well. Brennan had other ideas, however. _This situation requires wine_ , she mused.

"So I… I have your brother set up in a little auto mechanic shop type of situation," he began somewhat awkwardly.

"You set him up where? Oregon?"

"It's better that you don't know. He's in violation of his parole."

"Because you made him leave the state," she accused.

"Your brother is on a slippery slope, and yeah I know… I get the irony of me being a good influence on him, but it's true. I am," he insisted. She laughed in spite of herself, shaking her head in disbelief. Max's face lit up immediately. "It's nice to see you smile. That's… that's something," he said hopefully. His eyes were almost pleading, and Brennan gazed at him for a few moments before the smile slid from her face.

"The FBI is going to find proof of who you are, and then you'll be arrested again," she said sadly.

"Not tonight," he disagreed. She took a deep breath before moving on.

"Did you come here just to tell me that Russ is okay?"

"No, I actually have something for you," he replied, reaching into his pocket. "It belonged to your grandmother." He held out a small ring that was fashioned with a delicate twist of silver and tiny gemstones. As Brennan examined it, she noted that he still wore his wedding ring, and she tried not to let her emotions get the best of her.

"I have a grandmother?" she asked in surprise. He nodded, looking a bit sheepish.

"I know your mother and I told you that you didn't have grandparents, but… try it on," he encouraged. Brennan took the ring and studied it for a few moments before placing it on the table, ignoring his disappointed expression. Her mind was reeling with the information. She wanted to ask more questions about her extended family, but there were other things that had been troubling her for far longer. And he seemed to be in the mood to talk…

"Are you still following me?" she asked, feeling somewhat vindicated when she noted the surprise in his features. It was nice to know that she could catch him off guard too.

"No, not since last summer. Booth seems to be able to handle things...minus that Gravedigger mess."

"That had nothing to do with Booth. There was nothing he or anyone else could've done to prevent it." He nodded in acceptance but continued to frown as she continued. "How long were you following me?"

Max sighed, weighing the pros and cons of being honest with her. He knew how strong she was, and he didn't doubt she could handle it, but Booth's words had been stuck on a loop in his mind since that afternoon. " _You abandoned her as a child… You don't think she feels that?"_ Max was silent for so long that Brennan wasn't sure he intended to answer her at all, but she didn't back down.

"In comparison to how much time I spent away from you, I really wasn't following you for that long. I've been checking in on you as often as I could manage since your first year at Northwestern."

Brennan's mouth fell open in shock, and she closed it quickly, trying to remember if she'd ever seen him and perhaps simply failed to recognize him. She was pulled from her thoughts as he began to elaborate.

"Your mother and I knew how important it was to stay away, how dangerous it might be for you and Russ if we unintentionally led our enemies too close, but… After your mother died, it was harder. When she was around, we could remind each other of what was at stake, but when she was gone…" He released a deep sigh and seemed to have suddenly aged ten years. "Well, anyway, I didn't know that Russ had left you until you were in college. I expected to find you together, and it took me a little while to track you down

"I was so relieved when I saw you again. You looked so much like your mother," he smiled sadly, "You still do. Anyway, I hung around for as long as I could to make sure you were really okay, and you seemed to be. Even if…" He trailed off, not wanting to recall the way she had looked at age eighteen: haunted and sad. "I checked on you every so often from that day forward. I saw you graduate, kept up with the papers and articles you had published…"

Brennan was stunned at his words, but she didn't dare interrupt him. It was already the longest conversation they'd had in fifteen years.

"When you started traveling, it got a lot harder to keep an eye on you. There was really easy no way for me to leave the country, but when you started writing books it became easier again," he admitted, looking at her with so much pride that it made her chest ache. "I've checked in more often over the past few years, at least up until last summer. It was a damn good thing I did too. It was pure luck that I noticed that ex of yours acting suspiciously enough to make me want to follow him. I didn't know he had you until…"

"You killed him," she said quietly. It was neither a question nor an accusation - merely a statement of fact.

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Just like anyone else who has hurt you or threatened you." Her breath caught in her throat at his honest confession to murder, and she wasn't sure how to respond. After a few moments of silence, she decided to let it go for the time being and push for more answers.

"Why didn't you approach me until last December? All of those times you were so close...especially when I was tied up in that basement? Why didn't you talk to me?" Her eyes were stinging a little, and she blinked them furiously to ward off her tears.

"I wanted to, Tempe. I checked to make sure you were alive, and I would've waited until you came around, but…"

"But instead you ran again," she said, her tone accusatory.

"I had to. I heard the chopper getting closer, and I knew that if they'd found me there, I'd have been arrested. With everything that was going on, I knew there was no way I could protect my kids from inside a jail cell."

"What was going on?" she pressed. Max pursed his lips for a moment, searching for the right words.

"The events that culminated in the deaths of Garrett Delaney and Robert Kirby."

"Whom you also killed."

"Again...it kept my kids safe. I'd do anything for that."

Brennan sat back in her chair, feeling sick to her stomach. She knew she was reaching her limit with this conversation, but there was one more thing she felt compelled to ask.

"Where have you been since you left with Russ?"

"I really can't say," he evaded, looking contrite.

"I don't care where Russ is _now_ ; I want to know what you've been doing when you weren't here, helping me save Booth," she insisted. Max frowned and held her gaze for a moment before he answered.

"I was making some things right, Tempe. I'm not gonna say any more than that."

Brennan maintained eye contact for as long as she could stand, wishing for the umpteenth time that she could read people as well as Booth. She wasn't sure how to respond to his words, and after a few moments, she decided that she'd had her fill of drama anyway. The urge to retreat to the solitude of her bedroom was compelling.

"I'm going upstairs. You're welcome to stay… if you want. The guest bedroom is upstairs on the right."

She disappeared before he could say another word.

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Booth was much later getting home than he'd expected. His meeting with Cullen hadn't lasted that long, but he'd been roped into pitching in on a search and rescue operation lead by one of his fellow agents. He had texted Brennan to let her know, but she had replied with a mere 'Okay.' He was worried she might be upset that he had arrested her father, even though she'd literally given him permission to do so. The house was dark and silent when he arrived, and he found her in bed, still awake but oddly still.

"Hey, baby," he said quietly, coming to sit next to her on the bed. He smoothed her hair back from her face, trying to read her expression.

"Hi," she answered softly. "Max is in the guest room." Booth raised his brows in surprise, rapidly considering the possible ramifications of a wanted criminal staying in his home. Brennan's words echoed his thoughts. "Will it be a problem?"

"No… As of right now, I have no tangible proof that he's Max Keenan. If my suspicions weren't legal enough to detain him, then him staying here shouldn't be a problem. At least for tonight."

"We talked," she admitted, not at all sure where to begin in terms of recapitulating the conversation with her father. There had been so much information, and she was still processing.

"That's good, Bones. Did he answer your questions?"

"Some of them. I have...had...a grandmother on my mom's side. He gave me her ring."

"Wow," he said, glancing at her hands.

"I'm not ready to try it on," she told him, looking a bit guilty.

"That's alright, Bones. You'll get there. I'm sorry you didn't get to know her."

"Me too." Brennan thought back to the shock and betrayal she'd felt at learning that she did, in fact, have an extended family at some point in her life. She wondered if her life might have been different if those faceless relatives had known what was happening to her as a teenager, and she was reminded again of the way she'd felt when she'd met Hank: sad and slightly cheated.

"What else did he say?" Booth prompted, curious as to whether her mood was solely a result of learning about her extended family or if there was more to it.

"He's been checking in on me for a long time. You were right about that. He even came to my college graduation and followed my academic publications." Brennan was still astonished at that, and it showed in her eyes. Booth's heart ached to see that surprise, knowing that it was reminiscent of the teenage girl who had believed no one cared.

"That sounds about right, Bones. He loves you."

"I don't know what happens next," she admitted. "I don't know what to expect or… what I should _want_ to happen. I know he's just going to leave again, and I'm trying not to let myself forget that, but…"

"Hey," Booth said, tilting her chin gently so that she met his eyes. "Even if he does leave again, you won't be alone. You won't _ever_ be alone, baby." She smiled softly and nodded, lacing her fingers through his.

"I know, Booth. I love you."

"I love you too."

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 **As always, I appreciate all reviews. :) See you Tuesday.**


	34. Chapter 34

**Morning, squints! This is the last chapter using scenes from the show. Next time we'll get completely into my own little universe, and hopefully it will be satisfying in multiple ways. ;) I have to say, the transcript that's online for this episode was horribly inaccurate, so I had to watch it pretty much line by line for the scenes I quoted. Hopefully it still flows well enough, because it's hard to write like that.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 34

"So this girl was actually twenty-two? How's that possible? You said she looked pre-adolescent," Booth said, glancing at his fiancée curiously. They were on their way to speak with the victim's mother, but Booth was still trying to understand how the ID had been made.

"She had an aging disease. It caused stunted growth in some areas and accelerated grown in others." Brennan pulled a picture of Chelsea Cole from the missing persons file on her lap and handed it to him. Booth nodded in understanding but still felt a bit out of his depth. This was most definitely her area.

"Caroline came to talk to me this morning," he began cautiously. "Max's fingerprints don't match anything in the system; probably because Kirby wanted to make him invisible."

"I'm not sure I understand… Kirby removed all traces of Max from the NCIC?"

"And other databases," Booth replied. "Most likely so that when he killed Max, the body wouldn't have been identified, at least not accurately."

"But you were able to find him in the databases last year, so… Kirby erased the information after that?" Brennan thought back to the way Max had mentioned Kirby's name the night before. Apparently there was some sort of escalation happening behind the scenes prior to Delaney going after Russ, and she wondered if she would ever know the full extent of what had happened. Though she supposed it didn't matter all that much…

"Yeah, that's what it looks like. Caroline is getting a warrant for a DNA sample, and the FBI is digging through past records to find something to compare it to, but… Kirby covered his tracks pretty well."

"Or Max did," she frowned.

"Maybe, but I doubt it." He glanced at her again, noting the worried crease between her eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Bones."

"For what?" she asked in confusion.

"All of it. I'm sorry you're going through this again with your dad; sorry you're being put in a difficult position…"

"Neither of those things are your fault, Booth. Max is a criminal and a murderer. No matter what reasons he might've had to kill people, it's against the law, and that comes with consequences."

"Yeah," he nodded sadly. "You know I'm here though, right? For whatever you need, anytime you need it." She gave him a tiny smile.

"I know, Booth. You always have been."

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Cynthia Cole was tearful and heartbroken at the news of her daughter's death. As she spoke lovingly of her daughter, Brennan's attention was drawn to the array of paintings covering one of the walls. Each one was an accurate representation of a constellation, though they had clearly been done by a child's hand. When Booth asked why, Brennan explained that Chelsea's condition sometimes caused mental delays. The paintings were grouped beneath a row of skylights, and Brennan suddenly understood the cause for the arthritis she'd seen in Chelsea's cervical vertebrae.

When Chelsea had gone missing, her mother had given the police the name of a state-funded caretaker. Joe Mellon had allegedly bathed Chelsea without her mother's permission, but Child Services investigation into the incident had stopped when Chelsea had disappeared. Booth had the man brought in for an interrogation, but the lead went no where. Joe explained that Chelsea had requested a bath but had gotten shampoo in her eyes. Joe had helped her rinse them out and had left the room immediately. He described Cynthia Cole as a woman for whom 'everything was going downhill,' at least at that point in her life.

"You want to grab some lunch, Bones?" Booth asked when they'd finished the interrogation.

"I would, but I'm actually meeting Max at the diner. We never really got around to talking about my mother that much last night, and apparently he has more to tell me," she shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Booth was undeceived.

"You want me to come?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'll go and hear what he has to say...and then I'll leave. Have you heard back from Caroline about the warrant?"

"Not yet, but she works pretty quickly. It probably won't take her long."

Booth dropped her off at the diner, and Brennan found Max seated at the long counter, very near where they'd been sitting when he'd agreed to help her find Booth just a few weeks ago. He greeted her with a sunny smile that she did her best to reciprocate, and he held up the ring he'd tried to give her the night before.

"This ring was passed down from mother to eldest daughter for generations. It was a tradition."

"You told me and Russ that we didn't have any relatives," she reminded him again. The lie still rankled.

"Honey, we were underground. We had new names; we _had_ to tell you that."

"What's the truth?" she pressed, averting her eyes.

"Your mother was the eldest of three sisters, and if you seek them out, you show them the ring, they'll know who you are, and accept you into the family," Max said gently. Brennan looked at him with a mixture of hurt and incredulity. _Just like that?_ _Would they have taken me in all those years ago?_ It was one thing to hear him talk about grandparents, but now he was telling her that she had aunts as well, still living...cousins most likely too. The hollow feeling in her chest twinged painfully.

"What about on your side?"

"Your mother was the only family I ever knew. And you and Russ," he replied.

"You _abandoned_ me for fifteen years," Brennan told him, her voice thick with emotion. Immediately, she recalled what he'd told her the night before: checking up on her, following her...saving her. It was reassuring in a way, but it didn't make up for the years that she'd spent believing that he had either died or simply didn't love her.

"And I'll do whatever I can to make repairs," he promised. Brennan stifled the urge to snort in derision, even as she felt a tear escape her right eye. _Repairs… what exactly does_ that _entail?_

"While running away from the FBI?" she challenged. He sighed and returned back to the matter at hand.

"I have more. A message from your mother. On videotape."

"Wh...what does she say?"

"I don't know," he smiled. "It's for you. When you're ready." Max touched her hand gently and gazed at her with eyes so full of love and pride that even Brennan could see it. She could _see_ it, but she couldn't _trust_ it. Her attention was drawn to the entrance a few seconds later when Booth stepped through the doorway. He walked toward them, looking miserable.

"Hey, Bones," he said softly. He leaned in to touch his lips to hers, and Brennan tilted her head automatically to accept the kiss. "I'm really sorry." They locked eyes briefly, and she nodded, understanding the reason for his intrusion.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Booth said, addressing Max now, "but I have a warrant here to take a DNA sample from you, Mr. Arthur McGregor from Coos Bay, Oregon."

Max gave Booth a defeated sort of smile and willingly swabbed his own cheek. Booth tucked the swab into an evidence bag and inclined his head slightly toward Max in a gesture of thanks, but his eyes were on Brennan. He leaned in to speak softly into her ear.

"You okay?"

"Yes," she lied. Booth pursed his lips, knowing the truth. He kissed her again and hoped that the contact would bring her as much comfort as it gave him.

"I'll catch up with you later. I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too." She watched him leave and glanced back at Max, noting that his affectionate smile was back in place.

"I like Booth, you know. He's been good for you. For a while, I was worried that us leaving might have put you off relationships altogether," he admitted.

"It very nearly did," she said quietly. "But Booth is different, and… I decided not to let my past get in the way of things." Max nodded a little more solemnly.

"I'm glad for that, at least. And I'm so very sorry that things happened the way they did, Temperance. I know I can never really make it up to you, but that doesn't mean I won't try."

Brennan frowned at his sad, puppy-dog eyes, and yet she wanted so badly to believe him, to trust him. Aside from Booth, no one else in her life had ever gone to such lengths to keep her safe, and that meant something to her, even if she hated her father's methods. She found herself wanting to let him in whilst simultaneously kicking herself for even considering it. She felt as though she owed her fifteen-year-old self more respect than that. Was she really going to expose herself to the risk that he might hurt her again?

Had she already?

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Booth and Brennan returned to Chelsea Cole's home to speak to her mother again that afternoon. Zack had been able to determine that the hole in her skull, which Brennan had mistaken for a gunshot wound, had actually been caused by a surgical drill. Cynthia explained that her daughter had had brain surgery at age three, and the burr hole had been done to relieve intracranial pressure.

Brennan was once again mesmerized by Chelsea's paintings of the stars, and she mused aloud that they were very accurate. Cynthia looked surprised and said that she'd had no idea they were real. Booth looked at the paintings with greater interest, mentally comparing them to the star-shaped stickers on Parker's bedroom ceiling, but he pushed the thought away. This case was hard enough as it was; allowing thoughts of Parker to penetrate his focus would only make it worse.

"Mrs. Cole," Booth said, hoping to draw the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Why exactly did your daughter require brain surgery?"

"Why do you ask it like that?" Cynthia inquired, suddenly on the defensive. "You think I did something to Chelsea?"

"Head injuries are extremely common with children who are physically abused," Brennan pointed out. Cynthia drew herself up, visibly affronted, and glanced at her watch.

"Excuse me, but it's very important that I take my medication on time." She rose from the couch and crossed to a glass-fronted cabinet in the next room to remove several pill bottles. "My daughter, at age three, fell out of bed. She didn't stop crying, and so I took her to the hospital. She had the surgery, and it was _because_ of that injury that they discovered she had the aging disease."

She slammed her pill bottles down onto the coffee table as she reclaimed her seat on the couch, and Brennan eyed the labels curiously. "Did Joe Mellon tell you that I physically abused my daughter because I grabbed her arm once? _Once?_ "

Booth didn't know what to make of her abrupt change in demeanor, other than the obvious conclusion that Cynthia Cole couldn't be ruled out as a suspect. He supposed, in all fairness, that he might react in a similar fashion if anyone ever accused him of abusing Parker, but there was clearly something odd about Cynthia's behavior. Booth wasn't sure if it could be chalked up to stress and grief or if there was more to it than that.

They thanked her for her time, promising to stay in touch, and as they drove back to the lab, Booth's phone rang. The number on the tiny screen surprised him slightly; Hodgins generally called Brennan with his updates.

"Booth," he answered in his usual fashion.

"Dude, uh… Will you stand up for me on Saturday?"

"Against who?"

"No, no, I mean… Be my best man?"

"Sure, wow…" Booth was touched by the request but still surprised. He had assumed that Hodgins would extended the honor to Zack, and Hodgins certainly wasn't giving him much time to accomplish the usual best man duties.

"I know. Big honor."

"Well yeah, but you didn't give me much time to put a bachelor party together." He exchanged an awkward glance with Brennan. Talking about bachelor party plans around one's fiancée was probably ill-advised.

"No, no. No bachelor party."

"Is that Hodgins?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, he wants me to be his best man." They shared a smile, and Booth returned his attention to the phone. "Well if there's no bachelor party, what do you want me to do?"

"Stand there, make a toast, hand over the ring… tongue kiss the maid of honor at the reception when people clink glasses."

"Nice," he grinned. _As if I'm not going to be doing that anyway._ "Uh, listen do you need to me to connect with the bride's father? Put together the toast, the speeches, and…all that?" His question was met only with silence. "Hodgins, you there?"

"Angela's father," he deadpanned. "I forgot all about him."

 _Click_.

"Okay… That was weird." Booth frowned at his phone as he snapped it shut, still wondering why Hodgins had asked him rather than Zack. Before he could bring it up with Brennan, however, she made an unexpected announcement.

"She has AIDS."

" _Angela?"_

"Cynthia Cole," she clarified, rolling her eyes. "The victim's mother. HIV or AIDS."

"What, because of all that medicine she took?"

"I recognized one of them. We'll ask Cam."

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By the dinnertime that evening, Brennan was fairly certain that she'd learned all there was to learn from the skeletal remains. Hodgins and Zack were in the process of conducting an experiment involving sea chimps and spam, in order to discover precisely what had killed the fairy shrimp Hodgins had found on the body. Brennan couldn't but think back to the last time they'd used spam as a medium in an experiment, and she was surprised Cam had approved of the idea this time. She met Booth at the diner that evening and began to explain the current status of the case, but he held up his hands at the word 'experiment,' signaling that he really didn't want to know. They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Brennan remembered a question she'd meant to ask him the day before.

"Did you get a hold of Parker yesterday?"

"No, he was playing at a friend's house. I talked to him for a little while today though. He's fine, said to tell you hi," Booth smiled. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to the way he felt when he watched his fiancée and his son together. "He's excited for next weekend; he practically begged me for another trip to the museum."

"We could do that," she agreed. "Did he say what he wants to see?"

"Well, he _wants_ to see a skeleton. A human one. I think I talked him into the dinosaur skeletons though. I think he really just wants to see human bones because he loves you, and he's curious about your work. But I really don't think he's ready for that yet."

Brennan smiled at the idea of sharing her passion with Parker one day, but she agreed that he was probably a bit young. He was five years old, which ironically enough was the same age that she had decided to be a forensic anthropologist. Brennan knew that she had been unique in that aspect, however, and she didn't expect the same of Parker, even if he did seem to be nearly as interested in science as she had been at that age.

She tilted her head speculatively as she watched Booth across the table, smiling softly at the reminder of what a good father he was, and she found herself wishing she had been as Parker in that area. She belatedly recalled that Booth hadn't been nearly so lucky either, at least until the point that Hank had taken over that role...

"Do you like your father?" she asked cautiously. This was one topic that she knew Booth didn't really like to discuss, even though they had no secrets from one another. It occurred to her that perhaps he could provide some insight into that particular part of the situation with Max. Booth looked surprised at her words, but he didn't shrink away from them.

" _Like_ him? No. But…" he paused, considering his words carefully, "I think I will probably always love him, at least in some way, just because he's my father." Brennan nodded and continued to frown at their shared plate of fries without really seeing it.

"I think I love _my_ father," she said quietly, as though she were confessing something embarrassing.

"Well, that's normal," he reasoned.

"But…he ran out on me. And Russ. He _robbed_ people. He's a _murderer_. He got my mother killed… How does he expect me to…" Brennan shook her head, unable to finish her sentence. She knew what her father wanted from her: forgiveness. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure she was capable of giving him that, even if she truly wanted to.

"It's hard to trust someone who's abandoned you, especially a parent," Booth commiserated. Brennan's gaze locked with his, and a brief moment of intense vulnerability passed between them. _He was betrayed by both of his parents too,_ she remembered. She wondered idly what his reaction would be if either of his parents ever showed up, asking to be part of his life again. Booth had an enviably open heart, but Brennan knew full well that his trust issues ran every bit as deeply as hers.

"Am I... Am I terrible for not wanting to let myself care about my own father? Does it make me a bad daughter? A bad _person?_ "

"You're not a bad _anything_ , Bones," he replied, smiling tenderly. They got lost in one another's eyes for several minutes, and the familiar noises of the diner faded to obscurity. The art of being alone together even in busy, public places was something they'd mastered before they had even acknowledged their feelings for one another. It was a way of finding solace, sometimes without even touching, and it allowed them to come home, no matter where they happened to be.

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Hodgins called Brennan's cell before they finished their meal and reported that his 'spam and sea chimp' experiment had been a success. The results indicated that Chelsea had been poisoned to death by a drug called Nevirapine, which was commonly prescribed to treat AIDS and HIV. Booth and Brennan returned to Cynthia Cole's home, and the woman seemed to understand the situation as soon as Brennan asked to see her pill bottles. Booth placed the 'I Love You' rock on the table in front of her.

"We'll probably be able to trace that back to you," Booth told her, his tone low with suppressed revulsion.

"I loved my daughter," Cynthia said softly.

"The hell you did."

"She got to be too much for you to handle, so you killed her," Brennan stated, equally disgusted.

"You don't understand.

"I don't think you'll ever find anyone who does." Brennan dialed Cam's cell and read off the names of the prescriptions to her. None of them were a trade name for Nevirapine, but one of the medications Brennan had named was currently in experimental trials to _replace_ Nevirapine. Brennan thanked her, ended the call, and looked at Booth with a sickened expression. "She used her old medicine to poison Chelsea."

"Cynthia Cole, you're under arrest for the murder of your daughter, Chelsea Cole." Booth stepped behind Cynthia as she stood and allowed him to cuff her. Brennan paced back to the corner of the room that was wallpapered with Chelsea's paintings and looked up at the clear night sky through the skylights.

"Could you please take down the pictures Chelsea drew? I don't want anyone to come in and just throw them away," Cynthia said, her voice flat and resigned.

"You threw away your own daughter," Brennan replied, looking at the stars rather than the woman standing behind her. "Why would I do you a favor?"

Booth finished mirandizing Cynthia and escorted her from the house, but Brennan remained behind for a few minutes. She watched a meteor shoot across the sky, streaking beautifully as it entered the earth's atmosphere. It passed through Delphinus, and Brennan was once again reminded of her mother. Had Ruth Keenan thrown her daughter away as well? Brennan knew the truth of her parents' disappearance now, but it still hurt just as much. She felt an overwhelming craving for closure. For _peace_.

Booth texted her from outside, asking her to hurry, and Brennan sighed deeply. Her heart ached with the stress of her father's return, and she knew it was only a matter of time before he left her again.

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They agreed to stop back at the diner for dessert on the way home that night, but Booth had to get a few things squared away at the Hoover first. He dropped Brennan off with a request for cherry pie and a promise that he would join her shortly. Unfortunately, Charlie intercepted Booth on his way out of the building and told him that the Bureau had been able to track down an old piece of DNA evidence from one of Max's robberies, and the DNA was a match for Art McGregor. _Because this day wasn't bad enough already_ , Booth groaned inwardly.

He had a feeling Max wouldn't be staying in their guest room again that evening, so tracking him down wouldn't necessarily be a simple matter. He half hoped and half dreaded that Max might leave town again. It would spare Booth the discomfort of having to arrest him, but it would also hurt Brennan. Booth reasoned with himself that there was also a decent chance that Max could be intercepted by another agent, but when he pulled his SUV to a stop outside of the diner, he spotted Max standing on the sidewalk. He was waving goodbye to his daughter through the window of the diner, and Booth hesitated for only a moment before following him. _He can't abandon her again if he's in jail,_ he mused.

Booth followed Max covertly and was puzzled when his destination turned out to be the top level of a downtown parking garage. He couldn't tell which vehicle Max was headed toward, but none of them seemed to resemble the one that Booth had seen parked near their house the night before. He hadn't made the connection until he'd spoken to Brennan. Booth parked in an open space and took a deep breath as he approached Max.

"Am I gonna need to use my gun, Max?" Booth asked, inwardly cursing the situation. Max didn't look all that surprised to see him, but his usual blithe smile was missing.

"You got your piece of paper?" he challenged. Booth ignored him.

"Max Keenan, I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Deputy Director-"

"Ugh fine, fine, sure," Max groaned, shrugging in apparent defeat. "You know what? You can take me; you're _right_. I'm not gonna abandon her again," he insisted.

"You're not going to resist?"

"It's your lucky day, I guess." _Seriously?_

"Great," he said lightly. Booth stepped toward him intently, but Max took an involuntary step in the opposite direction.

"No… No, wait a minute… No. See I'm wrong. I can't just go _quietly_. It's not my nature."

"Max, I've got a gun," Booth reminded him, grinning in spite of himself at the older man's logic - or lack thereof.

"I can't surrender; you're gonna have to shoot me. You...you understand," Max replied, almost pleading.

"Not your nature…" Booth echoed vaguely. _Is he serious? No fucking way. I'll arrest him, but there's no way I'm using my gun to do it._

"Yeah, maybe it's a character flaw," he shrugged. Booth shook his head in irritation and methodically removed the ammunition from his gun, placing both on the trunk of a nearby car. Max watched him remove his suit jacket in surprise, and he shifted into a defensive pose with his fists raised. Booth clenched his jaw, silently cursing Max Keenan for putting him in this position. He was going to have to punch his fiancée's father. _Maybe I can get the job done in one hit,_ Booth thought, and he threw his fist into Max's cheek as hard as he could.

"Hey," Max said, surprised and staggering backward slightly. "Hey, that's good, son." Booth didn't have time to process the nickname before Max took a swing at him. Pain exploded across his face, and his head snapped backward. "What's the matter? You got a glass jaw?"

 _Okay… Now I'm pissed._

"You know what? You talk too much," Booth growled, punching him again.

"Ugh, right in the face? Geez." Max bent over as though trying to catch his breath. "Time, time!"

"You had enough?"

"Wait… I'm _old_ ," he panted.

"There are no 'time-outs' during an arrest," Booth taunted. Max stood up suddenly and knocked Booth across the cheekbone. Booth returned with a punch to his stomach and another to his face, causing Max to collapse onto the pavement, wincing in pain.

"Okay, I'm done, I'm done! It's over. I'm finished," he whined. _Good,_ Booth thought, sighing in relief. He felt a strange mixture of regret and vindication. Although he was grateful to Max for what he'd done over the past year to help Brennan, he didn't forget that the man had abandoned her in the first place. The fight had been rather cathartic. Booth sighed, pulling his handcuffs out of his back pocket and stepping toward him.

"Let's go-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Max slammed his fist into Booth's crotch, effectively rendering him incapable of movement, speech, and thought. Booth fell limply to the ground, clutching his groin, and Max lay beside him, still gasping for breath.

"Sorry, but… you _are_ sleeping with my daughter."

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Brennan headed home when she received a text from Booth explaining what had happened. He didn't give details on the arrest. He merely said that her father was in custody and that Booth would be delayed. She clutched the video cassette Max had given her in one hand as she entered the house and disabled the alarm. Brennan knew that the videotape contained a message from her mother, but she had no idea what to expect beyond that. She drank an entire glass of wine and poured herself another before pushing the tape into the VCR.

The image on the screen was of a city park on a sunny day, and Brennan's heart seemed to falter as Christine Brennan walked into the frame. She leaned against a tree and smiled into the camera, brushing her dark hair away from her face before she spoke. Brennan was in tears even before she heard her mother's voice, sobbing at the way it was still familiar, even if it had been more than fifteen years since she'd last heard it.

" _Hi, Temperance. It's Mom. I don't know when...or if...you'll ever see this. I hope to put it in your hands myself...see you again, with my own eyes. This is a hard, hard world. Your father and I left you and Russ to save your lives. People would've killed you to get us...but that's not what this is about. Today is your sixteenth birthday. I'm so sorry not to be there to tell you all the things that a mother should tell her daughter when she turns sixteen. And...I'm sorry not to give you this. It's an heirloom from my side of the family, and starting today, it's yours. I don't know how long it will take me to get it to you, but I promise you I will. You're going to hear a lot of things about your parents. Especially about your father. He's a good man. It was my insistence to leave you kids. Max would've kept us together, fought until the end. I'm not sure he'll ever forgive me for that. So please, Temperance, I need you to forgive me. And if you can't forgive me, I beg you, honey… Forgive your father. Cause he is a very good man. Remember this: you were cherished in this world. Adored. What I did to you may have been wrong, but I did it out of love. I did it out of love."_

Her mother smiled one more time into the camera before the scene faded, and Brennan sat on the couch, struggling to get herself under control. Her sixteenth birthday… She pushed hard against the memories that rose up to torment her, but it was no use. Russ's phone call, her foster parents losing their tempers, the pain from the subsequent beating that had been more than simply physical… It had felt as though she were being punished for having been born. Until last year, she hadn't celebrated a birthday since before her parents' disappearance.

Brennan rewound the tape and watched the video again, drinking in the image of her mother as a means of drowning the terrible memories. Although Brennan's birthday was in October, her mother had clearly been somewhere fairly warm that day. Every line of her face and body were familiar, and Brennan couldn't remember the last time she had felt such a strong desire to be able to hug her mother again.

She remembered the irrational 'conversation' she'd had with her mother's headstone last fall, and Brennan found it almost comical that her mother had answered her question all those years ago. _Is Dad a good man or a bad man?_ Her mother insisted that he was good and was begging her to forgive him. To forgive both of them. Could she?

Nearly a year and a half ago, Brennan had made the decision not to let her past get in the way of her future. She had unwrapped fourteen-year-old Christmas gifts and had done her best to overcome the fears and insecurities that had prevented her from forming intimate relationships for so long. For the most part, she had been successful. She was on her way to becoming not only a wife but a stepmother as well, and that was no small feat. Brennan knew exactly how far she'd come because she had worked so hard to reach this point. Booth had made it easier, of course, but when she looked at things objectively, she had to acknowledge just how much she'd changed.

Had she changed enough to be able to forgive her parents? Completely? She certainly wanted to, and she realized that she had already forgiven her mother for the most part. Although the revelation that it had been Christine's idea to leave them was disconcerting… But Max was still around. He was in jail for murder. He'd killed _multiple_ people in an effort to keep his children safe. He'd surrendered and allowed himself to be arrested and incarcerated, which meant that he would be sticking around, at least for the time being. Had he done it for her, or had he simply gotten tired of running?

By the time Booth arrived home, Brennan had replayed the video so many times that she'd lost count. When he shuffled through the doorway, it was difficult to determine who was more surprised at the sight of the other. Brennan's face was blotchy and swollen from crying; Booth's was bruised and swollen from fighting. The residual pain in his groin and stomach caused him to move in slow, calculated steps toward her.

"What happened?" they said in unison.

"Max didn't exactly go easy on me," he grunted, touching her cheek softly. "Why have you been crying?"

"Wait, what do you mean he didn't go easy on you? _He hit you?_ "

"Yeah. I'll be alright." Booth collapsed onto the sofa next to her, still frowning in concern. "I gave as good as I got. Except for the punch to the crotch...that was out of line."

"You punched him in the genitals?" she asked in shock.

"No! He punched _me_ there. Still hurts," he grumbled. Brennan stood up from the couch abruptly and disappeared into the kitchen. She reappeared a few minutes later with a couple of ice packs, and Booth placed one against his face and the other on his lap. "Thanks, Bones. Your turn. What's got you so upset?"

Brennan released a sigh of deep sadness and exhaustion but didn't answer. Instead, she grabbed the remote and started the video from the beginning. She had her mother's words memorized now, and by the end of it, Booth's arms were around her, ice packs forgotten.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I wish you'd waited until I got home. I hate that you were alone for something like that."

"It's alright. I've watched it a few times now, and...I'm okay," she said softly, enjoying the feel of his arms around her. Somehow, the world seemed to make more sense when Booth was holding her, though she knew that was a completely irrational sensation. "I don't know if I can do what she asked."

"Forgive them?"

"Yes. I think I've forgiven my mother already...for the most part, anyway. But Max…"

"Bones, he could've easily gotten away if he'd wanted to."

"What?" she asked, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze.

"He didn't run away because he felt that if he abandoned you again, he'd lose you forever. He didn't want to leave you and hurt you again… so he stayed."

"And went to jail."

"Yeah."

Brennan stared at him blankly as she tried to process the information. She'd been so certain that Max would simply disappear again that it hadn't occurred to her what might happen if he stayed. _Of course he went to jail_ , she thought. What other option had he had? She melted back into Booth's arms and released a long sigh against his chest. Booth hugged her tighter, enjoying their embrace every bit as much as she was. It soothed and reassured him, as though a simple hug were capable of setting the world back in its place each time it happened to turn upside down on him. She made everything better, no matter what they were facing.

"Come on, Bones," he murmured, concerned she might be falling asleep. He was in no shape to carry her upstairs tonight. "Let's go to bed."

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Brennan woke the next morning with a new level of clarity, as though the tears she had shed and the sound of her mother's voice had given her the cathartic release she'd been craving. Angela's wedding was later that afternoon, but before Brennan allowed her mind to shift in that direction, she wanted to pay another visit to Cynthia Cole. This one would take place at a jail.

She went alone, promising Booth that she was feeling better and that she would call as soon as she was finished. Brennan sat across from Cynthia at a small table in one of the visitation rooms and placed a stack of Chelsea's drawings and paintings in front of her.

"Chelsea thought that starts were signals from heaven...showing how to get home. Your AIDS cocktail wasn't working. You were sick. _Dying_. They put you on an experimental drug, and you felt even worse. Your worst nightmare was coming true; Chelsea was going to outlive you."

"No foster parent would take her," Cynthia said quietly, her expression desolate. Brennan closed her eyes reflexively. The woman's statement had hit way too close to home.

"You did what you did...out of mercy," she replied, watching Cynthia's tears spill over her cheeks.

"We went to the park, and I gave… I told Chelsea that it was candy, and we sat there looking up at the stars… I didn't know what to do with her. I didn't have any strength left. And then… I remembered the water, and I thought it was deep. _Peaceful_ , you know?"

Brennan lost the battle with her own tears, and her chest ached with the need to sob for what had been lost.

"And then, like you were being punished, the experimental drug started to work. Didn't it?" She paused as Cynthia nodded, eyes streaming. "You got better. What you did was wrong...but you did it out of love," Brennan told her, echoing her own mother's sentiments. She held out the 'I Love You' rock that she'd found clutched in Chelsea's hand, and Cynthia lost the tenuous hold she'd been maintaining on her emotions.

Brennan sat with her for a little while as she cried, but no more words were spoken. As she made her way from the jail to Angela's apartment, she replayed her mother's parting words on a loop in her mind.

" _What I did to you may have been wrong, but I did it out of love."_

Brennan felt as though she had a slightly better grasp for the reality of that statement now. Like Max, Cynthia Cole had committed murder, and

she had done it out of love. Her love for her daughter's well-being had driven her to extreme measures in impossible circumstances. Brennan had a unique perspective of what the foster care system would've been like for Chelsea, and although she could never truly _condone_ murder, she understood Cynthia's logic. After all, how many times had Brennan herself contemplated whether it might not be better if she weren't alive at all? She'd never attempted or seriously considered suicide, but she had certainly wished from time to time that she had shared her parents' fate. Her years in the system were spent believing that they must be dead, and as she suffered abuse after abuse, the prospect of death seemed peaceful and welcoming. The fact that her parents had left her in order to ensure her safety seemed like an irony every bit as cruel as Cynthia Cole's recovery.

Once she had pulled her car to a stop outside of Angela's apartment building, she spent a few moments composing herself. It was Angela's wedding day, and she was the maid of honor. She berated herself for her distraction, knowing that the last thing her best friend needed today was to be worried about _her_. When at last she felt she was ready to focus on happier things, she stepped out of the car, pulled her shoulders back in determination, and rode the elevator up to Angela's apartment.

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 **Reviews make me happy! See ya Thursday!**


	35. Chapter 35

**Wow, we're getting really close to the end! Of this story anyway. Hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thanks for the wonderful feedback!**

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Chapter 35

"What do we do now?"

 _Good question, Bones,_ Booth mused, equally surprised over the turn of events. He felt a bit like he'd been hit over his already-aching head as he tried to process what was happening. Hodgins and Angela had left the sanctuary for a few minutes along with Caroline Julian and a man he hadn't recognized. They'd returned only for long enough to stand in the doorway and announce that there would be no wedding. They'd invited their guests to go to the reception and enjoy themselves...and then they'd simply left. _What the hell is going on?_

As if that hadn't been enough of a surprise, it had come almost immediately after Zack had informed him that the President was requesting his forensic skills in Iraq. Booth hadn't had time to process the far-reaching consequences of that before the wedding had begun, but now their conversation was coming back to him. Zack wanted Booth to tell the rest of their friends that he was leaving, and Booth had no earthly idea how he was even supposed to bring it up.

" _Why me?"_

" _You know more about duty and honor than anyone else I know."_

Booth snorted inwardly at the memory. _Like I can tell him no after a comment like that. The kid certainly knew what he was doing._ He both admired and hated Zack for doing this. Zack had been absolutely correct in believing that Booth would understand his reasons for agreeing to the President's request, but Booth hated being put in this position. And more than anything else, he hated how much the news was going to upset Brennan.

"Do you want to go to the reception?" Booth asked with a shrug, glancing awkwardly at the grinning minister. He and Brennan had been left standing in front of her as though _they_ were the ones getting married. _Shame we don't have a license,_ Booth thought. He dismissed the idea almost immediately, however; they deserved their own wedding, done the way _they_ wanted.

"Not really," Brennan admitted. "I kind of just want to go home, if that's okay with you." Booth smiled and reached for her hand, waving a quick goodbye to Cam and Zack before retreating back up the center aisle.

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"Hey, Bones, I need to talk to you about something."

They had returned home and spent the evening taking care of one another. Brennan plied him with good food and analgesics for the lingering pain resulting from the fight with Max, and Booth plied her wine and a hot bath to release the tension of the past few days. They'd made love slowly, soothing and comforting one another into a better frame of mind.

Booth wished that he could delay this conversation for a few days, but Zack had told him that he would be leaving in July. Booth knew that Brennan needed as much time to process the change as he could possibly give her, and that meant telling her sooner rather than later. He had a feeling that she and Cam were the only ones in the dark at this point. This had to have been the reason that Zack had turned down the request to be Hodgins' best man.

"What is it?" Brennan asked, looking up from the forensic journal she'd been reading. She noted the apprehension in his features immediately. "What's wrong?"

"Uh, nothing's _wrong_ really, just something I need to tell you." He sat next to her on the couch, and she tossed her magazine onto the coffee table before turning to face him. "Zack told me something yesterday, and… Well, do you remember asking me if I'd noticed anything off about him?"

"Yes, he's been somewhat distracted at the lab. Did he tell you why?"

"Yeah…" Booth drew in a deep breath and ripped off the band-aid. "The President asked him to go to Iraq."

" _What?"_ Brennan's eyes were wide with alarm. "When? Why didn't he tell me?"

"I don't know when he got the letter, though I'm guessing it hasn't been too long. He leaves the first week of July."

"No. No, he can't do that. He can't go to _Iraq_ ; he's not ready for that," she insisted, her voice rising in both volume and pitch. She felt her chest clench with anxiety, and her mind drudged up images from her own experiences in the Middle East. "You say it like he's already agreed to go…"

"He has," Booth said softly, looking back at her with sympathy. She was terrified for Zack, and Booth had to agree with her that the kid most likely wasn't ready to see the kinds of carnage that resulted from modern warfare. Unfortunately, he'd been able to read the determination in Zack's expression perfectly; there would be no talking him out of this.

"You have to tell him not to go," Brennan pled, shaking her head from side to side in a way that seemed involuntary. Her eyes had filled with tears, and Booth squeezed her hands in support.

"I can't do that, Bones."

"What? Why not? He respects you; he'll listen to you." She was no longer merely surprised and upset...now she was angry. Booth sighed heavily.

"When I asked him why he wanted me to be the one to tell you and the others, he said that it was because I knew more about duty and honor than anyone else he knew. And though I don't necessarily agree with that perspective, I understand how he came to that conclusion. Trying to get him to stay would be hypocritical of me, you know?. I don't want anything to happen to Zack, but I understand why he feels like he has a duty to perform and why he feels honored to have been asked."

Brennan frowned, averting her eyes as she processed his words. Booth gave her a few moments before speaking again. He knew full well that she didn't want to hear his logic, but if she was going to cope with this mess, then she needed to be reminded of certain things.

"Bones, how many times has your country asked you to put yourself at risk this way?" She glared at him, clearly not pleased with this line of inquisition, but Booth held his silence until she answered.

"Ten," she muttered, looking away again. Booth closed his eyes and pursed his lips for a moment, pushing back the hoard of terrible images that invaded his mind.

"Okay. And even more for other reasons or other people asking that were just as risky, right?" She gave a stiff little shrug. "You've put yourself in this position over and over again, because you felt obligated, right?" She met his gaze and nodded minutely. "I disagree with Zack's opinion of me. _You_ know every bit as much about duty and honor as I do. You've been asked to go to these dangerous places again and again, and you never hesitated."

"That was different," she argued, sounding a bit petulant. Booth cocked his head to the side and gave her a challenging look.

"No, it's not, and you know it. The kid idolizes you. You're his _hero_. Of course he wants to follow in your footsteps; he wants to make you proud."

"I'm _already_ proud of him; he doesn't need to go to a warzone for that," Brennan insisted, wincing slightly at his words. He wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know, but she now felt as though it would be her fault if something happened to Zack. She supposed that this turn of events shouldn't really come as a surprise. Zack had his doctorate now, and he'd been trained by the best in their field. Of course he would be asked to do things like this. It would be stranger if he _weren't_.

"I don't understand why I'm feeling this way," Brennan admitted, her anger having dissipated to a steady throb of anxiety. "I know that, logically, it makes sense that the government would want Zack's help." Booth pulled her into his arms, and she didn't fight him. She rested her head against his chest, feeling mentally exhausted.

"It feels like this because Zack's family," Booth explained, stroking her hair soothingly. "If there were a few more years between the two of you, he would be like your son. At the very least, he's like a kid brother that you've brought up yourself, you know? You've watched out for him, taught him, guided him, and worked side by side with him for years. You're afraid to lose him, and that's a perfectly natural feeling. But Bones… what you _can't_ do is try to control him. This is what Zack wants to do, and he needs everyone's support. Especially yours."

Brennan was silent for a long time, working through her emotions and trying to find a way to argue with his logic, but eventually she had to admit that Booth was right. She released a deep sigh of resignation and looked up at him, still frowning.

"I'll try to be supportive," she said reluctantly. "But I won't be happy about it."

"No one will be happy to see him go, Bones. _Supportive_ is more than enough."

Booth continued to hold her until she dozed off in his arms, napping for nearly an hour. When she woke, her mood had improved somewhat, and she didn't bring up the subject again until after dinner that evening. She overheard Booth on the phone with Cam, explaining Zack's decision to go to Iraq. From what Brennan could glean from his one-sided conversation, Cam wasn't any happier about it than she had been.

"What did Cam say?" she asked when Booth joined her in their bedroom.

"A lot of the same things you did," he replied sadly. Cam had all but demanded that he 'talk Zack out of this insanity,' but Booth had given her the same patient response he'd given Brennan. Zack needed their love and support; not their doubts in his capabilities. "She's agreed to be supportive too."

"You said he's leaving the first week of July?"

"Yeah."

"I'd like to get married before then," she said in her no-nonsense Dr. Brennan tone. She was rubbing her hand lotion into the skin of her palms and only looked up at him when she registered his silence. He was looking back at her in surprise. "Did you hear me?"

"Uh...yeah, sorry. I… We hadn't really talked about a timeframe, but I'm fine with that. It's really soon though, Bones. Weddings are a lot to plan."

"You're forgetting that my maid of honor planned her own wedding within a week," she grinned. "We'd have at least three. I was thinking the twenty-third. It's a Saturday. Plus, we've both agreed that we'd prefer a small gathering of family and friends."

"Yeah, that's a good point," he replied, smiling along with her now. "So, that's the _when_. Have you given more thought to the _where_ part?"

"Well… Most venues would require more advanced scheduling, especially in June, but I was picturing something different anyway. Would you be opposed to getting married...here?" she asked hesitantly, watching his reaction.

"Seriously?" he smiled even more brightly, and she nodded. "I'd love that, Bones. I had the same thought too a couple weeks ago, but I wasn't sure you'd go for it. The backyard is private, and it's more than big enough to have a ceremony and some sort of reception back there. We'd just need to line up a caterer and some music, maybe rent some tables and chairs…"

Brennan listened happily as he rambled on about their wedding plans, and she offered suggestions here and there when he paused for air. They stayed up well into the night, making lists and using her laptop to search for services online. Eventually, they turned off the light and settled into a spooning position. Booth couldn't seem to wipe the smile off of his face.

"Tomorrow's June 1st," he said happily.

"Yes…?" She turned in his arms to find him grinning back at her like a little boy on Christmas morning.

"That means that in twenty-three days, you'll be my _wife_."

"And you'll be my _husband_ ," she countered, smiling just as widely.

"You know… the wedding night is a pretty big deal," he said, leaning in for a sweet, lingering kiss. "Maybe we should practice." Booth groaned as he felt her tongue sweep provocatively over his lower lip.

"Sounds reasonable."

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"Brennan, are you serious? You want to plan a wedding in less than a month?" Angela asked incredulously. Brennan gave a rather unladylike snort.

"Says the woman who planned hers in less than a week."

"Touché," she shrugged. "But I had Hodgins' AmEx Black card. Money talks. We can get it done though. What do you have in mind?" Brennan smiled, both pleased and unsurprised by her friend's attitude.

"Small...just friends, family, and some colleagues. Booth is asking an old friend to officiate. They were in the army together, but he's a judge now. Wedding party would just be you, Hodgins, and Parker. We'll need to handle flowers, food, music, tables and chairs, a dance floor of some sort I guess…" Brennan dug into her messenger back for a copy of the list she and Booth had worked on the night before.

"What about location?"

"Our backyard."

"Oh, Bren, that'll be gorgeous. That's a great idea; there's certainly enough room." Angela took the list from Brennan and scanned it thoughtfully. "One task we have to handle right away is the invitations. We might have to get creative on those and print them ourselves since it's such short notice, but we'll manage. We should start on this list now; thank goodness we don't have a case. We can go look for a dress now, and I'll make phone calls for the other stuff while you're trying things on."

"You want to leave and go shopping on a Monday morning?" Brennan asked, and Angela looked up from the list with wide eyes.

"You're giving me twenty-three days, Brennan. Zack can handle the limbo cases, and _we_ will handle this," she replied, holding up the list.

Brennan was exhausted after only a few hours. She'd had no preconceived notions to speak of when it came to a wedding dress, and she must've tried on dozens by the time Booth called wanting to meet them for lunch. Since she was driving at the time, she answered the phone on speaker. Brennan was on the point of telling him that they wouldn't have time to eat since she wanted to get back to the lab that afternoon, but Angela spoke over her.

"Meet us at the diner, Booth. I want to get your take on a few things anyway."

"Ange-"

"No, Bren. Zack can manage. Call him if you're wanting an update, but it'll be fine. Even Cam told you that before we left. No excuses."

"Great," Booth said happily, "See you there in fifteen?"

"I suppose," Brennan sighed. After they said their goodbyes and ended the call, Brennan brought the conversation around to the proverbial elephant in the room...or car, in this case. "How are you and Hodgins doing after…well, after what happened?"

"Or didn't happen, you mean?" Angela smiled sadly. "We're okay. It certainly doesn't change how we feel about each other or what we want for the future. It just means that we have to track down my mystery husband so that I can get a divorce before Hodgins and I can seal the deal."

"And you got married in Fiji? That trip must've been before I met you, because I don't remember it at all."

"Yeah, it was the year before we met. I remember the ceremony a little, and of course...I remember the wedding night," she snickered. "But I didn't realize it was an official kind of thing, you know? I don't even remember the guy's name."

"How are you going to find him then?"

"A private investigator. Hodgins is already trying to figure out which is the best firm to hire."

"Hmm… But you're okay?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "It is what it is, you know? There's nothing to do now but fix it, and in the meantime, I can have fun planning _your_ wedding." They exchanged smiles, but Brennan eyed her friend covertly, hoping that Angela's emotions were as untroubled as she claimed. "You never did tell me...why the rush? Last week, you weren't in any kind of hurry to set a date, and first thing this morning, you tell me you're getting married before the end of the month. What changed your mind?"

"Zack."

"Oh," Angela said, her face falling into an expression of concerned that mirrored Brennan's. "Yeah, Hodgins is a mess about that. He asked Zack to be his best man first actually, but Zack said that he didn't want us to look back on our wedding day with bad memories if something should happen to him over there." Brennan looked alarmed.

"He said that?"

"Yeah. Hodgins is still mad at him for going, though he won't come right out and say it. He's taking a more passive aggressive route at the moment. What does Booth think about it?"

"He doesn't want him to go either, but he says that we all need to support Zack even if we disagree with his decision. I even asked Booth to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't." She sighed, feeling drained as she parked the car outside of the diner and followed her friend through the door.

"Why not?"

"Because he thinks it would be hypocritical. Both of us have been to Iraq in the service of our country. Booth was ordered there as a soldier, but I was requested for the same sort of work Zack will be doing."

"When were you there?" Angela asked, looking pale at the images that were forming in her mind.

"I'm...not allowed to say," she dodged. "Unless they're raising Zack's security clearance, I don't think he'll be in as much danger though, so that's something."

"As much danger as _you_ were in?"

"Yes," she said simply.

"What?" Booth's question announced his presence, and he slid into the chair beside Brennan. "What happened?"

"Nothing, we're talking about Zack."

"Oh. No change in his plans then?" he asked, wondering what he'd missed in their conversation. Brennan shook her head sadly.

"I spoke to him about it a little this morning. He's determined to go." Booth took hold of her hand beneath the table and squeezed it reassuringly. After a moment, she gave him a smile of resignation. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, let's move this conversation to happier topics, huh?" Angela asked, her smile appearing only slightly forced. She pushed the updated list toward Booth and said, "Okay, so we need your opinions on food, tuxes, and music choices…"

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By the time Angela let Brennan go home that evening, they had accomplished quite a bit in the wedding preparations. After striking out at several formalwear stores, Angela insisted that they visit a smaller boutique that she'd learned about while shopping for her own dress. Brennan found a dress that reminded her of a picture in a bridal magazine she had seen as a child. Something about the whimsical feel of the photograph and the happiness on the woman's face had stuck with her through the years, and she knew that this was 'the dress.' Angela even found a simple bridesmaid dress in the appropriate color, and the shop's seamstress promised to have the alterations for both garments finished in time for the wedding.

Brennan had decided on a color scheme of teal, yellow, and white. The flowers would be daffodils and gardenias. They had lined up a caterer and a bartender, and Brennan had approved a handful of ideas for the decor. She shuffled into the house feeling exhausted, and she was pleased to see that Booth had dinner waiting.

"Hey, Bones. I made that Satan stuff you like so much." He greeted her with a kiss and a smirk, knowing how much she hated it when he called it that. She sighed but couldn't hold back a smile of her own.

"I assume you're referring to seitan?" she asked, inhaling the scent of her dinner appreciatively.

"Eh, po-tay-to, po-tah-to." Brennan rolled her eyes affectionately and tucked in. They ate in silence for a few moments before Booth asked her about her day. She gave him a quick summation of what she and Angela had accomplished that day, and he was reasonably impressed with their progress.

"What about you? Did you talk to Hank?"

"Which one?" he laughed.

"Well...both, I guess."

"Yeah, I talked to Hank Lutrell, and he's more than happy to help out. I invited him to bring his family; I hope that's alright."

"Of course."

"Good. And, let's see… Next was Rebecca, and she didn't have any issues, at least with the wedding part of the conversation. It's Parker's normal weekend with us anyway."

"But she had issues with something else?" Brennan asked in confusion.

"Yeah...the Chicago trip. She already had some family things going on that week, and she really wants Parker with her for them."

"Oh. Well, that's alright, I suppose. Family gatherings should really take precedence over a trip like this. We can always take him there another time, and it might be better to do that at a time that I'm not bound by academic obligations anyway."

"Yeah, you're right. I was looking forward to having him with us, but it'll be nice to have the time alone with you too," he replied, smiling warmly at her. "We got the rest of the summer visitation time figured out I think, but I told her I'd need to double check the dates with you and get back to her."

"I saw your email," she nodded, "they looked fine to me. What about the other Hank?"

"Pops is on board, of course. No surprise there," he grinned. Brennan took a sip of her wine and contemplated her next question with slight trepidation.

"Do you think… Do you think Hank would walk me down the aisle?" She rushed forward before Booth could answer, "Of course I certainly don't believe that I need anyone to 'give me away' like property, or anything like that, I just-"

"Bones, it's okay. I know that. And Pops would love it."

"You're sure?"

"Well you can always ask him, but I'm a hundred and ten percent sure he'll say yes," Booth chuckled, wishing that he could be there to see the look on Hank's face when she called.

"You know there's nothing higher than a hundred percent, right?" she asked, attempting to cover her emotional response with her typical demeanor.

"Yeah, I know," he grinned. "Anyway, it makes sense, I guess. I hadn't really thought about that part of it, but since Max can't be there, I'm sure Pops would be happy to step in."

"I don't know that I'd ask Max to do it anyway," she admitted. "I'm getting closer to forgiving him, or at least I think I am, but I don't know that I trust him enough yet. Not enough to include him this way."

"I understand," he assured her. "Have you decided when you're going to visit him?" Brennan looked startled at the question. Visiting her father in prison hadn't even crossed her mind yet. He'd only been in jail for a few days, and her emotions were still such a mess over the whole situation. She'd been coping by focusing on other things and shoving that particular heartache to the side, metaphorically speaking.

"I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it yet," she replied. "I think… I think I'd really rather just focus on the wedding for now. There's so much to do. I'll go see him when things slow down."

Booth nodded but kept silent. He knew she was in compartmentalization-mode right now, and this wasn't the time to rock the boat. She would need to come around to the idea in her own time, and pushing her would only upset her. He decided to give her a few weeks or so before bringing it up again. _Maybe after the wedding… Speaking of which-_

"You know, we haven't talked about a honeymoon yet. Do you have anywhere in mind?"

"Maybe," she said, her expression brightening considerably. "I was thinking somewhere tropical. I'm not sure I'd want to spend more than a few days anywhere though. There won't be much time between the wedding and Zack's departure, and I really want to be here for that."

"Tropical sounds great. Anywhere in particular?" He stood and carried their empty plates to the sink while she followed with their stemware.

"I was thinking maybe the Maldives. It's an island nation in the Indian Ocean. It's really a very fascinating place from an ecological perspective."

"As long as it's warm enough for that skimpy bikini I love so much, I'm there, baby."

"Hmmm," she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Well, temperatures there are around eighty degrees year-round, so I'm sure that won't be a problem. In fact, I may have to get a few _more_ bathing suits."

"Even better." He buried his face in her neck, and she shuddered as he tasted the skin there.

"Although… there will probably be enough privacy to skip the bathing suit altogether," she said coyly. He groaned loudly, and she felt his arousal against her stomach, even through the thick material of his jeans. Before she could take another breath, he had lifted her into his arms and was heading for the staircase. She giggled at his eagerness, but she certainly wasn't about to argue. "Most of the resorts have private villas that are actually built over the water," she continued, murmuring hotly into his ear. "We'd probably have our own little swimming pool, a private deck, maybe even an outdoor bed as well as an indoor one."

Booth was panting slightly by the time they entered the bedroom, and he placed her carefully on the bed before standing to rid himself of his clothing. Brennan propped herself up on her elbows to watch, admiring every smooth contour of his body. She was perfectly aware that she was eyeing him as though he was something to be devoured, and she was absolutely unashamed of it. He caught the hungry look in her eyes and chuckled huskily as he set about removing her clothing as well.

She had kicked her shoes off downstairs, but she was still wearing the skirt and blouse that she'd worn all day with Angela. His hands moved smoothly up her nylon-clad legs, starting at her ankles and only pausing when they reached her thighs. He lifted her skirt to confirm what he was feeling and practically whimpered at the sight of her lace-trimmed, thigh-high stockings. Her skirt and underwear were quickly sailing through the air to the floor, and she slipped the shirt and bra over her head with equal haste.

"God, you're beautiful, baby. I know I say it all the time, but…" He shook his head, wishing that he were better with words. She was laid out on their bed, illuminated only by the dim evening light peeking around the curtains. It was a red sunset, and the warmth of the light made her flawless skin glow. His hands followed his eyes as he traced each graceful curve of her body, licking his lips in anticipation when he reached the apex of her thighs.

"Booth," she whispered, almost pleading as she writhed beneath him. Her eyes had closed gradually under his expert touch, and she was taken by surprise when she felt his mouth at her core. "Oh, God…"

He began by exploring every inch of her sex with his tongue, keeping his movements slow and sensual. The tip of his tongue traced over the sensitive flesh in a way that might have almost been lazy if he weren't being so thorough. He continued the slow torture until Brennan was thrusting her hips toward his mouth involuntarily. Booth listened to her breathing and the tiny whimpers that were emanating from her throat, using her responses to dictate his actions. When the sounds took on a tone of desperation, he plunged his tongue between her folds, keeping time with her eager hips.

She was gripping the sheets with each hand, and he knew that what she really wanted was to grip a handful of his hair instead. He placed his hand upon hers and very deliberately pulled it toward him until it rested on top of his head. She opened her eyes suddenly and looked down at him, and in the moment their eyes met, he sucked her clit hard into his mouth, using his teeth gently to increase the pressure. Brennan cried out with her release, and Booth nearly came simply at the change in her eyes, not to mention the flood of moisture that fell upon his tongue. He accepted it greedily, refusing to remove his mouth until he had licked her clean.

"Wow," she breathed, her breasts still rising and falling rapidly. He smiled his charm smile, looking incredibly pleased with himself, and she couldn't find the will to take issue with his arrogance. It was well-earned.

"I do aim to please," he said, sounding rather smug but softening it with a gentle laugh. "You're so sexy, Bones. Everything about you is sexy." He worked his way slowly up her torso, worshipping her satiny skin with his mouth. He paused over each breast for long enough to get her moaning again then proceeded upward once more. Brennan's hand was still on the back of his head, and she used it to pull his lips to hers.

His breath caught in his throat as she kissed him with consuming passion. Her free hand was moving in long strokes against the bare skin of his back while her mouth plundered his eagerly. She could taste herself on his tongue, and she moaned at the eroticism of it. Booth felt her legs wrap themselves around his hips, and he thought he might combust if he spent one more second not being inside of her. He positioned himself carefully and drove home in one smooth thrust, relishing the guttural cry that ripped from her chest.

He began a slow, steady rhythm, withdrawing almost completely before filling her once more, and each time he bottomed out, she released a throaty groan of pleasure. Her hips kept time with his, allowing him to set the pace of their lovemaking. Brennan clung to him tightly, squeezing her eyes shut at the exquisite sensation of fullness, but Booth craved eye contact. Losing himself in her eyes whilst simultaneously burying himself in her body was an incomparable experience. He'd never felt that kind of connection with anyone else, and he knew that he never would.

"Look at me," he begged, caressing her face tenderly. She obliged, drinking in the sight of his darkened eyes and parted lips.

"Booth… More," she pled, digging her nails gently into his flesh and urging him deeper, faster. He gasped, capturing her lips in another soul-shattering kiss as he gradually increased the speed of his movements. Within seconds, Brennan felt her second release approaching, and she used her hands and legs to clutch him even tighter against her as she drew his tongue into her mouth.

"Oh God, baby…" Booth felt her inner walls spasming with her climax and knew that he couldn't hold back any longer. He erupted within her, burying himself to the hilt and crying out with the intensity of it.

"I love you," she whispered breathlessly as the tremors slowed. Booth kissed her once more before resting his forehead upon hers.

"I love you too, Bones. So much."

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 **I couldn't let them take over Hodgela's failed wedding, sorry. They deserve one of their own. The good news is that it will happen before the end of this story! So yeah, next chapter there will be smut...and the one after that will have LOTS of it I should think. I've had to slow down on my writing quite a bit now that my kids are home. They were gone for 8 straight weeks, and I have missed them like CRAZY. I'm managing to keep my posting schedule so far, but if I miss a day somewhere along the line, that's why. Never fear: it WILL be finished. I've come way too far to leave the series incomplete. But, you know...being a mom comes first. ;)**

 **All the cool kids leave reviews. Just sayin'. *muah***


	36. Chapter 36

**Hello! There's a bit of everything and every _body_ in this chapter, but those are always the best kind I think. Special thanks to my beta for her excellent proofing, suggestions, and moral support. And, as always, thanks for the wonderful feedback.**

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Chapter 36

"Angela, I can't take off two days in a row," Brennan insisted, frowning at the sizeable stack of paperwork on her desk.

"You're getting married in three weeks, Bren. There's so much to do. How are you not more worried about the time crunch?" Angela looked rather frazzled, shifting her weight impatiently as she did her best to reason with Brennan.

"I guess...because I have you for my maid of honor?" she said, shrugging as she flipped to the next document requiring her review and signature.

"Does that mean you trust me to handle some things on my own?"

"If that's what it takes. I'd like to have final say, but I trust you to make the arrangements I've already approved. I'm not really that worried about it."

"Well, thanks for trusting me, Sweetie, but I don't understand how you're so calm," Angela sighed. She had spent the previous evening turning Brennan's list into an organized binder of wedding information, which she now held in her hand. Brennan sighed as well, glancing up at her friend with a placating expression.

"I'm calm because the details that are the most important are easy. We're going to the courthouse to get the license today, we have an officiant lined up, and Booth and I will both be there to get married. The rest of the details are just... _details_. I'm looking forward to the marriage far more than the actual wedding. The wedding is one day. The marriage is for the rest of my life, and that's far more important."

Angela's eyes had glazed over slightly as she'd listened to Brennan's speech. As much as she might've liked to call this one of the many occasions in which Brennan was failing at being a girl, Angela had to admit that her friend had a point. After all, she herself had planned the perfect wedding, but fate had interfered at the crucial moment. Angela now felt as though she would give up every single 'perfect detail' of that wedding if it meant that she could marry Hodgins.

"Okay," Angela nodded. "You're right; there's no reason for you to stress over it. I'll take care of as much as I can on my own, but I _will_ be interrupting your work when I need approval for things."

"Understood," Brennan smiled. "Is there something you need now?"

"Yeah, I need you and Booth to work on a guest list and a song list when you get home tonight. And look at this invitation template I came up with," she said, handing over a sample. "If you like it, I can get them printed and mailed as soon as you give me a guest list."

Regardless of the speech she'd just given Angela about the marriage being more important than the wedding, Brennan couldn't deny that her heart skipped a little faster at the sight of her name printed with Booth's in the elegant script Angela had chosen. _This is really happening_ , she thought, feeling suddenly giddy.

"It's perfect, Ange," she approved. "I'll try to have that list for you tomorrow."

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By the time the week of her wedding arrived, Brennan had come to value Angela's help more than she ever had at any other time in the three years they'd known each other. She and Booth still had the final say on everything, but Angela proved herself to be a master when it came to the logistics of wedding planning. Booth joked that she could easily make a killing as a wedding planner if she were so inclined.

During Brennan's final dress fitting, Angela had the temerity to bring up Max, and she seemed to be in the same frame of mind as Booth on the subject of prison visits. Although Brennan's fresh emotional pain had started to diminish over the last couple of weeks, she was still in no mood to consider seeing Max face to face.

"Ange, I don't even know what I'd say to him," Brennan argued dismissively.

"Just talk to him, Sweetie. Tell him about the wedding, about the honeymoon, about Zack leaving… He's your dad, and he stuck around for _you_. I'm sure he'd like to see you."

"That's the point, Angela. It's always for _me._ He let Booth arrest him _for me_ ; he _killed_ people _for me._ He and my mother left to keep me safe; he followed me around for years to make sure I was okay-"

"Wait, what? What do you mean he followed you around for years?"

"He told me that he didn't know I'd been in the system until I'd started college, and he tracked me down during my freshman year. He's been checking in on me ever since."

"Wow," Angela sighed. "So that's how he happened to follow Peter when…?"

"Yeah, and we both know how that ended," Brennan grumbled. Angela was silent for a few moments, trying to determine how best to deliver the advice that her friend needed in that moment-whether Brennan knew she needed it or not.

"Bren… Those aren't the actions of a man who doesn't love his daughter. You may not _agree_ with those actions, but there's no faulting the guy's motives. Hell, in that situation, I'm pretty sure _I_ would have killed that asshole, and you're just my best friend." Brennan's eyes widened incredulously, and Angela continued, "Try to see it from his perspective, okay? Would Booth kill for Parker? _Would you?_ "

Brennan sighed heavily and didn't respond, but Angela knew the answer regardless. Brennan had been a central figure in Parker's life throughout her relationship with Booth, and Angela was fully aware of what he meant to her.

"Look, I'm not saying you have to go see your dad any time soon, but just...don't write off the idea altogether, okay?" It took a few moments, but Brennan finally gave a nod of assent.

"I'll think about it."

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Brennan felt very much out of her element as she took a seat in the hard plastic chair to wait for her father to appear on the other side of the partition. Although she had visited inmates in the course of her work with Booth, the meetings had always taken place in a private room of some sort. Now, however, she was visiting a family member, and their interactions were relegated to a plexiglass barrier and handheld telephone.

She didn't know what she was expecting to see when her father finally appeared in the chair opposite hers, but somehow his good-natured smile managed to surprise her. He was outfitted in the standard orange jumpsuit and was escorted by a burly-looking security guard, but Max seemed perfectly at ease with the circumstances. He beamed at his daughter as though the mere sight of her was more precious to him than anything else in the world.

"Hey, baby girl," he greeted her after they had both lifted the phones to their ears.

"Hi, Dad." They exchanged awkward pleasantries for a few minutes before Max summoned the nerve to draw the conversation toward her mother.

"So…did you watch the video?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes." Brennan decided not to tell him that she had watched it enough times to memorize the entirety of her mother's recorded speech, but the fact that she had watched it at all earned her another gleaming smile from her father.

"What did she say?"

"She said that…that she was the one who insisted on leaving, and you wanted to stay." Max nodded sadly but didn't interrupt. "She said that you're a good man, and that...that she wanted me to forgive you. And her."

Max closed his eyes as a wave of sorrow swept over him. He wasn't really the kind of man to carry regrets for things he'd done in the past, but leaving his children to fend for themselves was one regret that would be etched on his heart forever.

"I wanted to take you kids with us," he confirmed. "Or hold our ground together as a family. Either way, I didn't want to leave you and Russ. Your mom didn't _want_ to either, of course, but she thought it was the only way to make sure that our pasts didn't come back to harm our children."

"They did anyway," Brennan replied softly. _And the alternative ended up being far worse._

"I'm so sorry, Tempe. If I had it to do all over again, I'd do a lot of things differently...but I can't." They gazed at each other sadly for a few moments before Max continued. "You said she asked you to forgive us… Do you think that's possible?" Anyone could have heard the hope in his voice, and it wasn't lost on Brennan.

"I don't know, Dad. I'm trying, but I just… I don't know."

"I understand," Max replied, averting his eyes to shield her from the pain in them. He had no desire to make her feel guilty on top of everything else. Brennan floundered for a few seconds, wanting to steer the conversation back toward safer topics or else simply make her escape.

"I'm not sure when I'll be able to come again," she admitted. "The wedding is this Saturday, and then I'll be traveling for a conference next month-"

"You're getting married this Saturday?" Max raised his brows in surprise.

"Yes."

"Why the rush?"

"My graduate student has opted to take a position in Iraq, and I wanted him to be at the wedding. He leaves in a few weeks."

"The floppy-haired kid?" he asked, mentally flipping through the figurative rolodex of faces he had seen in the company of his daughter over the years.

"Yes. Although his...hairstyle has changed," Brennan replied awkwardly, once again being reminded that her father had watched her fairly closely without her knowledge.

"He doesn't strike me as the type that can handle a place like that."

"Zack is very competent in his work; I've trained him well. He'll be fine," she said coolly. Brennan might be in complete agreement with her father on the state of Zack's emotional maturity, but in that moment, admitting it to him felt like a betrayal of sorts. In spite of her reassurances, Max could see the conflict in her eyes and promptly backpedaled.

"I'm sure you're right. How about you tell me about this wedding? I wish I could be there to walk you down the aisle…"

"But you can't. Because you're in prison," she replied with her typical blunt delivery. Max wasn't sure how to respond to that, but after a brief pause, he forced the smile back onto his face.

"Will you at least bring pictures the next time you come?" She nodded. "Good. Are you planning a big wedding or…?"

"No, fairly small and very private. It'll be at home; just family and friends."

Max nodded, wondering who among their families would be present. The only family his daughter knew were either dead, in prison, or in hiding. _Small wedding, indeed_ , he thought with remorse. He vaguely recalled from his initial research on Booth that his mother was presumed deceased, his father was estranged, and his brother was in the military. He'd been partly raised by his grandfather, so Max supposed that he would be there. _And his son… I'll have a grandchild,_ he mused, his stiff smile turning into a genuine one. He'd seen the three of them out and about several times when he'd been checking in on Brennan, and it had always filled him with joy to see his daughter interacting with the boy.

Brennan answered a few more questions about her wedding plans but made a hasty exit as soon as she could manage. She left feeling slightly better about the situation, as though she had performed her duty as a daughter by visiting Max, even for a short while. As she put more and more distance between herself and the prison, realized that Booth and Angela had been right. Seeing her father was the right thing to do, even though it had been uncomfortable, and she had actually been feeling somewhat guilty for not having contacted Max since before his arrest. Now she could focus getting married without anything hanging over her head.

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Booth adjusted his tie with slightly trembling hands as he surveyed his appearance in the full-length mirror of the guest room. He wasn't nervous about getting married, but he _was_ a tiny bit anxious to know whether or not _Brennan_ was nervous about getting married. He'd kept a close eye on her stress level over the last few weeks, half-fearing that she would get cold feet and call the whole thing off, but his fiancée had held it together fairly well. That was, at least, until a well-meaning Angela Montenegro had insisted that they spend the previous night apart from one another so that they didn't see each other until the crucial moment. Brennan had voiced her disagreement with the superstition adamantly, not to mention loudly, but Angela hadn't budged. She'd ordered Booth to the guest room and planted herself on _his_ side of their bed in order to stand guard. Booth wondered if she had any idea that Brennan had snuck into the guest bedroom after Angela had fallen asleep and snuck back to their room in the wee hours.

Hank had stayed the night in Parker's room, and it was hard to say which of the two of them was more excited. Parker had been a virtual ball of energy from the moment he'd set foot in the house, and Hank had been more animated than Booth could recall seeing him in many years. He and Booth had wrangled Parker into a child-size tuxedo and guided him through a rehearsal of his ring bearer duties, and every time anyone had brought up Hank's role in the ceremony, the old man had practically glowed with pride. As Booth had predicted, Hank had been ecstatic to accept the honor of escorting Brennan down the aisle.

The guests were due to arrive fairly soon, and Booth took up his post at the gated entrance to the backyard. His eyes did a thorough sweep of the yard, nodding in approval at the finished product. They had considered creating separate settings for the wedding and reception, but in the end, it made more sense for their guests to watch the ceremony from the long tables where they would later be enjoying their dinner. The ceremony wouldn't be a lengthy one, and it was a simple enough solution to place the small dais at the end of the long center aisle between the tables.

A large marquee had been erected on the lawn and strung with thousands of twinkle lights, and even with the short notice, Angela had managed to find a company to assemble a temporary dance floor. Each of the long tables was adorned with a white linen tablecloth, multiple bouquets of daffodils and gardenias, and a creative array of candles that joined with the twinkle lights to produce a soft, warm glow. The air was warm but not uncomfortably so, and Booth was relieved that neither rain nor humidity was an issue.

He greeted their guests as they arrived and directed each of them to find a seat of their choosing. Nearly everyone who had been invited made an appearance. The only notable absences were fairly expected: Max, Russ, and Jared. Max, of course, was incarcerated, and no one knew where Russ was hiding. Booth wasn't sure he even knew that his sister was getting married. Jared had been invited but had called to express his regrets that he wouldn't be able to make it. Booth had fully expected that, and he had been more surprised that he'd gotten a phone call at all.

"So I'd offer the use of a getaway car, but...you live here," Hodgins said by way of greeting. He elbowed Booth playfully, and Booth took the ribbing with a good-natured smile.

"Thanks. I guess I should've offered that as your best man, but it turned out that you managed to get away just fine on your own."

"Ouch," Hodgins whined mockingly, placing his hand his heart to feign injury.

"Too soon?"

"Nah, it's cool," he replied, dropping the charade with a grin. "Angie and I will get there. Is there anything you need me to do?"

"Yeah, actually… Why don't you go tell _both_ of our fiancées that it's time to get this show on the road."

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Brennan hadn't been nervous about her wedding day at any point since Booth had slipped his grandmother's ring onto her finger, but she had to admit that the adrenaline was starting to get to her. Considering the way she had avoided even the _idea_ of marriage for so many years, the extent of her present excitement was downright comical. Time seemed to behave oddly that day; both dragging and speeding forward at the same time. The house was chaotic throughout the day, though she could really only hear the activity through her bedroom door.

Angela had sequestered the two of them in Brennan's master suite so as to get the full beauty work-up without having to leave the house. She had actually hired two stylists to 'bring the salon to them,' and by the time it was all said and done, Brennan had been plucked, polished, massaged, and exfoliated almost to the point of soreness. Her hair gleamed with healthy shine, and her skin positively glowed. Her stylist applied the bare minimum amount of makeup, keeping her as natural as possible, and Brennan's hair was wound and tucked into an intricate up-do.

Both Brennan and Angela had agreed that a veil would only detract from the overall ensemble. The back of her dress was nearly as detailed and beautiful as the front, and it was clearly intended to be displayed. Angela helped her into her dress after donning her own, and she struggled to keep her emotional tears from spoiling her makeup artist's handiwork.

"Angie, Booth says it's almost time," Hodgins hailed from the other side of the locked door, rapping his knuckles against the polished wood.

"Yeah, we'll be down in a few minutes. Have everyone in their places," she shouted back. Hodgins gave a muffled confirmation of her orders and retreated back to the lower level, and Angela turned back to face Brennan. "Are you ready?"

Brennan couldn't seem to find her voice, but she gave her friend a quick nod and a brilliant smile. She felt as though she were observing herself making her way carefully down the stairs and outside rather than actually doing it. She wondered absently if this was what people meant when referring to 'out of body experiences.' Hank met her with a proud, watery smile and extended his elbow gallantly, taking his place at her side as they followed Angela toward the starting line.

She knew that her feet were moving, but she couldn't feel them. And the moment Booth came into her line of sight, everything else disappeared as well. She knew that there was music playing, knew that dozens of people had their eyes trained on her...but she couldn't see or hear any of it. She saw only him.

Booth was having a similar experience. At the precise second he saw her, it felt as though his heart had stopped. He knew he had stopped breathing, but the lack of oxygen didn't seem to register. Booth had always thought of Brennan as the most beautiful woman he'd ever known. He had taken hours to catalogue every minute feature, every exquisite inch of her skin, every curve, every freckle, every scar. He had proven more than once that he knew her body better than she did, knew every change of color in her eyes, and knew what each of them meant. He had watched her laugh, cry, sleep, work, eat, make love… He knew that she was beautiful.

But the woman walking toward him on his grandfather's arm was more stunning than he'd ever realized. She was breathtaking- _literally_. Only when Hank had kissed her cheek and placed her hand in his did he start to breathe once more, and he didn't take his eyes off of her as 'the other Hank' started to speak. He vaguely recognized his cues each time he was required to speak, and from the glazed, elated expression on Brennan's face, he knew that she was in a similar state. They broke eye contact only for long enough to take the rings from an enthusiastic Parker, and they each managed one quick glance at Hank Lutrell as they were proclaimed husband and wife.

Their first kiss as a married couple seemed to practically ignite the air that surrounding them, eliciting a wave of cheers and catcalls from their guests. Brennan wrapped her arms around Booth's neck as he wound his around her waist, crushing her to him in a steamy embrace that had Parker covering his eyes in chagrin. They were utterly lost in the moment, deaf even to the less-than-subtle throat-clearing of those nearest to them. They eventually surfaced and turned to face their guests with flushed, exuberant smiles, retreating back up the aisle together until they reached the dance floor.

They began their first dance immediately, and a dizzying array of camera flashes lit the scene as Booth spun her in circles around the parquet floor to the tune of Etta James' _At Last_. Brennan felt lightheaded with the rush of adrenaline, and she knew that she was smiling up at her husband like a fool. Thankfully, his grin was equally exultant, and they shared several more kisses before the song finished.

The reception followed the usual traditions, for the most part: dinner, cake, toasts, dancing, etc. There was no smearing of cake in each other's faces, and there were, of course, no dances reserved for specific family members. In spite of that fact, Hank made sure that he was first in line for a dance with Brennan, in place of what would have otherwise been a father-daughter dance. Booth watched happily as his grandfather twirled his wife around the dance floor, and his grin stretched even wider when Parker politely cut in. Their guests chuckled warmly at the scene, and more photos were snapped when Brennan lifted Parker into her arms to dance.

Not long after the dinner plates had been cleared away, Booth's eye was caught by a lone figure standing in the shadows near the side of the house. He was alarmed for only a moment before he recognized the man, and he briefly toyed with the idea of approaching him. Brennan didn't seem to notice Russ's presence, and the last thing Booth wanted for her was more family drama, particularly today. Russ's arrest warrant was a local issue rather than a federal one, so Booth had no real obligation to detain him. He had a feeling that Max had been the one to tell Russ about the wedding, and that thought gave him a moment's pause. Max hadn't been able to give Russ much of a warning, so perhaps Russ wasn't so far away as Brennan had originally suspected. Booth glanced at Amy and her girls, noting that they didn't seem to be expecting anything out of the ordinary. He tilted his head in a nod of acknowledgment, and Russ raised his hand in return before slipping off into the night.

"So how long before we can kick them all off our property?" Booth asked her some time later, capturing Brennan in his arms again before Agent Burns could ask for a second dance.

"I don't know what would be customary… Maybe in an hour or so? How do we get them to leave?"

"Oh, that part's easy. We'll just close the bar." They shared a laugh and a kiss… and another dance.

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"Sweetie, do you need help getting out of your dress?" Angela asked. She had dutifully shooed their guests away at an appropriate hour, and she and Hodgins had volunteered to play host to Hank and Parker for the night at Hodgins' estate.

"That won't be necessary," Booth answered for her, smiling wolfishly at his wife and ignoring the smug grin on Angela's face. He had been outside moving Parker's booster seat over to Hodgins' vehicle and bidding his son goodnight, and he had all but sprinted back into the house to tell Angela to scram.

"Alright then. We'll drop Parker and Hank off at...ten?"

"Noon," Booth corrected.

"Okay," Angela snickered, allowing herself to be shunted out the door. Booth locked it behind her and set the alarm before turning back to face his wife…only to find her missing.

"Bones?" he called up the stairs.

"Give me just a minute," she answered back. "You should get yourself out of that tux if you want to get the deposit back."

Booth's smile stretched so wide that his cheeks ached, and he took the stairs two at a time. He tossed his jacket, tie, and shoes into the guest room and got to work on the tiny shirt buttons as he made his way to the master bedroom. His light knock was answered with a soft 'Come in,' and he entered to find her pulling the pins from her hair as she stood in front of the long dresser.

"Need some help?" he offered, moving to stand behind her and meeting her eyes in the mirror.

"Yes. I thought about taking the dress off, but you seemed so eager to do that yourself," she teased. Booth nodded and pressed his lips to her silky skin, dropping a line of soft kisses from her jaw to her shoulder. One by one, they removed every hairpin, and Brennan shook out her brown tresses in relief. "I didn't realize how heavy all of that was," she admitted, stretching her neck gratefully.

Booth massaged the knots from her neck for a few moments before guiding her back to the center of the room. He finished the row of shirt buttons with a little extra help from Brennan, and she kissed him fervently as she pushed the shirt over his shoulders. Booth sighed against her lips, feeling blindly around the back of her dress for a zipper. Once she had rid him of his pants, she broke the kiss and turned around so that he could see what he was doing. Booth released the eye hooks and pulled the long zipper down to reveal a very sexy set of white lingerie. _Holy fuck, she's wearing a corset,_ he groaned inwardly, his mouth watering as he took in the full ensemble when she turned around again.

"Oh my God, baby… If I'd known you were wearing that all night, we'd have skipped the reception altogether."

She giggled and used his biceps to steady herself as she stepped completely out of her dress. The lingerie set was simple but undeniably sexy. A strapless corset pushed her breasts up nicely, creating more cleavage than Booth was accustomed to seeing. Her dress hadn't revealed this secret at all, showing just a hint but leaving much to the imagination. The white thong had his pulse racing as well, but what really sent him over the edge were the stockings and garters.

"Jesus, Bones," he gasped, shaking his head in wonder over the fact that this exquisite creature was his _wife_. He seized her lips in a passionate kiss, pleased when her mouth opened to grant him access. He caught her up in his arms and stepped toward the bed, laying her down carefully and standing back to simply admire her for a moment. Booth realized that he had gotten distracted when he felt her impatient hands pushing his boxers over his hips. His arousal sprang forward, and Brennan took him into her mouth eagerly.

She used one hand to steady him while the other encircled the base of his erection, and she ran her tongue lightly along the underside, paying particular attention to the most sensitive areas. Booth groaned, watching her swallow him inch by inch and struggling to remain still. The urge to thrust into her mouth was overwhelming, but he settled for threading his fingers into her hair. He gasped as her mouth pulled rather forcefully on the sensitive head of his arousal.

"Bones," he grunted, fighting the need to explode down her eager throat. He knew that they would most likely spend the majority of the night making love, but he didn't want to relinquish his control so quickly. Brennan, apparently, had other plans. She focused her attention on the tiny pinch of skin on the underside of the head, flicking her tongue against the spot rapidly before finally sucking it gently between her lips. Booth shouted wordlessly, clenching a fistful of her hair in spite of his best efforts to maintain control. His eyes were squeezed shut, and Brennan pulled back enough to speak.

"Look at me," she commanded. Booth shuddered at the raspy, sultry quality of her voice and promptly obeyed. She was looking straight up at him, and her wide silver-blue eyes were smiling. Her _eyes_ were the only things smiling, because her mouth was suddenly very busy again. Booth groaned as she swallowed him once more, relaxing her throat until her nose was pressed against his skin.

"Fuck," he cursed loudly as he shattered, completely undone by her skilled ministrations, and she held him in her mouth until he stopped twitching. "Oh my God," he panted, feeling rather weak in the knees. She grinned up at him salaciously, looking very pleased with herself, and she pulled him gently onto the bed with her. "Your turn," he whispered, eager to get his hands on every inch of her flawless skin. "I owe you at least two for that one."

"Oh, are we keeping count?" she asked playfully. "Perhaps you should try to beat your record."

" _My_ record or _yours_?"

"Both?"

"Challenge accepted," he grinned.

Her record was nine; his was five. Booth was fairly certain he could have her in the double digits by sunrise, and he was well on his way before he even entered her that night. He brought her to climax once with his hand and once with his mouth, and she was still spasming from the second release when he finally sheathed himself inside of her. Brennan cried out at the intensity of it, thrusting her hips shamelessly against his to urge him onward.

"Booth," she moaned, attempting to focus her eyes on him as he moved within her. Each time he filled her, she clung to him more tightly, and as her third orgasm swept over her, she whimpered a soft, "I love you."

"I love you, Temperance. My love… my _wife_." She shuddered again at his words, enjoying the aftershocks that rippled through her body. He allowed her only a moment to catch her breath before flipping them so that she was straddling him. "Ride me, baby. Come again for me."

Brennan moaned in surrender and did as she was told, lifting slightly and grinding down on him repeatedly. They fell into a slow but hard rhythm, and she released a tiny cry of ecstasy each time he buried himself completely within her. Booth knew that his second climax was perilously close, and he slipped a hand between their bodies to press his fingertips to her clit. She shouted his name as the waves overtook her once more, and this time he came with her, flooding her and clinging to her with desperate passion.

"Rest," she begged. "Just for a little while." Booth nodded in agreement, still breathing heavily as he pulled her down so that her chest rested on top of his. He was still pulsing slightly inside of her, and they both whimpered a little when he withdrew. He cradled her in his arms, smoothing his hands over her back and through her hair as they came down together.

"Don't get too comfortable," he advised, smiling into her sated blue eyes. "By my count, we've got at least eight more orgasms between the two of us if we want to break that record." She grinned lovingly back at her husband.

"I think even _that_ number might be a bit conservative."

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 **Alright, so... I'll admit, writing a BB wedding intimidated me a bit. I really didn't want to hash out vows and small details, which is ironic since I wrote my own wedding ceremony when I got married. My beta suggested focusing on the emotions rather than the words, and I think that worked out well. Wedding night sex is also intimidating to write, so I hope that was...satisfactory. heh.**

 **I'm hanging in there on the timeline (barely), but I'll warn you if I have to delay things at all. Reviews are appreciated!**


	37. Chapter 37

**Welcome back! Thanks for the wonderful feedback on the last chapter. Hope you enjoy this one too! :)**

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Chapter 37

Booth stretched his neck slowly, wishing he'd attempted to talk his wife into a honeymoon destination that didn't require twenty hours in flight. Brennan had insisted on first class, of course, and although Booth had practically choked at the price of their flight tickets, he had to admit that he was grateful for the added comfort at this point. They'd been in the air for nearly ten hours, and they weren't due to make their first stop in Doha for another three. Booth didn't bother trying to keep track of the time zone changes; he only knew that they would lose time on the way there and gain time on the way back.

Brennan had spent most of the flight cuddled beneath her husband's arm and focused on one academic publication or another. When at last her eyes began to tire of reading, she tucked the magazine into her carry-on and snuggled closer to Booth.

"Getting sleepy?" he asked, smiling down at her.

"Not really. Just tired of reading."

Booth nodded and pressed his lips to her hair. Their flight attendant made an appearance a short while later, offering refreshments. Booth had been mentally referring to the woman as 'their' flight attendant because she didn't seem to pay much attention to anyone else. He was also fairly certain that if he'd been flying alone, the woman would've propositioned him by now. Her nametag identified her as Heather, and she had succeeded in making Booth very uncomfortable within the first hour of the flight. She had basically ignored Brennan altogether but had managed to surreptitiously touch Booth multiple times. While his wife had been napping, she had intentionally bent far enough forward to give him an eyeful of cleavage. Booth had switched places with Brennan halfway through the flight so that he was sitting near the window rather than the aisle, but the woman couldn't seem to take the hint.

"Is there anything I can get for you sir?" Heather purred, once again speaking to him as though he were alone.

"I'm fine, but my _wife_ might like something," he replied. Brennan rolled her eyes at the woman's behavior for the umpteenth time before leveling a deadpan stare at her.

"No, thank you," Brennan said coldly. Heather gave Booth another once-over and flounced away, shaking her rear end provocatively as she moved up the aisle. "That woman is utterly ridiculous."

"I agree. I'm sorry, baby."

"You have nothing to apologize for. She seems like the type of person who won't learn anything that isn't beaten into her." Booth lifted a quizzical brow at that statement, wondering just how badly his wife was wanting to deliver that lesson herself. He squeezed her tighter against his side to reassure her.

"As fun as that might be, I think we'd probably get kicked off the plane," he teased. "From the looks of the desert we're flying over right now, I'd say we're better off sticking it out for a few more hours."

Brennan frowned but didn't reply, silently agreeing with his assessment. She recalled the many occasions that Angela had accused her and Booth of 'eyefucking,' and Brennan was absolutely certain that the looks Heather had been giving Booth would more than qualify. Brennan was accustomed to other women looking at her husband in that manner, and it didn't bother her all that much anymore. However, being stuck on a thirteen-hour flight with this particular vulture was enough to make anyone short-tempered.

"How long is the layover in Doha?" she asked, attempting to change the subject.

"Not long. No more than an hour, hopefully," he replied. Brennan nodded, and her thoughts turned to the general area where they would be landing. Doha was the capital of Qatar, and she knew that there was a US military base not far from there. That led her thoughts to Zack, and Booth watched her face as her expression changed. "What's wrong, Bones?"

"Nothing," she shrugged. He tilted his head to convey that he knew better, and she sighed before continuing. "There's a military base near Doha. It made me think of Zack." Booth sighed, wishing he could offer more than a hug and a handful of well-intentioned reassurances that Zack would be okay.

"Has he gotten any more information about where he'll be working?"

"I'm sure he has, but he's not permitted to share those details. I know that he's flying into Baghdad though, so that's a plus. I didn't have that luxury the last time I was there."

"They had to route you through one of the smaller airports?" he guessed, attempting to determine precisely where she might've been without asking straightforward questions he knew she couldn't answer.

"No, there weren't any under US control at that point except for Baghdad International. Where they sent me was too far away to make landing there a practicality."

"Okay… I don't get it. How did you get there then?"

"Plane," she said simply. "But we had to jump."

" _Jump?"_

"Yes. Zack is lucky they're flying him in the normal way. Although perhaps if they'd required him to jump, he'd have turned them down…"

Booth was still stuck on the fact that his wife had parachuted into potentially hostile territory. The thought sent a chill of horror deep into his bones. _I knew she'd been to Iraq, but for fuck's sake, they let her jump? Who the hell approved that?_ He didn't realize that he was clenching his fists until Brennan gasped in pain and threw him an inquisitive glance. He was still holding her hand.

"Sorry, I just… I didn't realize you'd ever done anything like that," he grumbled, releasing her hand and scowling at the back of the seat in front of him. Brennan frowned, certain that she'd mentioned it before, but after a few moments of listening to him mutter under his breath, she decided to placate him.

"I probably won't do it again," she offered.

"Probably? Uh, there's no _probably_ about it, Bones. We have an agreement, remember?"

 _Right,_ she thought, rolling her eyes in chagrin. Brennan hadn't forgotten about the compromise they'd reached not long after they'd gotten together in regards to her government-related fieldwork. She had no doubt that if she were ever required to parachute again, Booth would insist on strapping himself to her for the jump.

"I remember," she sighed. "Can I hold your hand again or will you try to crush my phalanges?" Booth slipped his hand back into hers and lifted it to his lips.

"Sorry. Let's talk about something else…"

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Booth ended up being correct in his estimate: they were able to change planes and take off again in a little under an hour, and Brennan was pleased that their flight attendants this time were all male. She breathed a little more easily as she and Booth settled down for the last leg of their trip. They would land in Malé just before sunset and take a speedboat to their resort.

Brennan spent a good portion of their second flight giving Booth an education on their destination. The Republic of Maldives consisted of a chain of twenty-six atolls located southwest of India and Sri Lanka. The archipelago was populated by fewer than five hundred thousand people, and the already-small amount of land had been gradually disappearing over the last few decades due to climate change. Brennan revealed that the ecological issues the country was experiencing were part of the reason she had been eager to visit; the land would most likely be completely underwater within their lifetimes.

Transportation between the various atolls and islands was limited to boat or seaplane, but they would be sticking to boats for the duration of their stay. When they landed at the airport in Malé, a host from the Baros resort was waiting to welcome them. They boarded a resort-owned speedboat with several other couples and were told that their luggage would be delivered to their villa shortly after their arrival on the island.

They had booked one of the fifteen Water Pool Villas that had been constructed over the shallow, tranquil water of the lagoon. The array of miniature houses was connected to the main part of the island by a long wooden boardwalk, and the sun deck of each villa faced outward toward the ocean. Tall wooden fencing on each side provided complete privacy.

"Wow," Booth said, finding it difficult to decide what to focus on. The walls were a neutral almond shade, and the red oak floors were smooth and inviting. Booth spotted a Bose stereo system complete with an iPod dock, a pre-stocked bar, a flat screen television, and a small library of books, CDs, and DVDs. The villa also came equipped with an espresso machine and a tea kettle, and a bottle of Cristal was waiting for them next to a tray of chocolates.

Brennan drifted through the main sitting room area toward the bedroom and bathroom. The king-sized bed seemed to dominate the bedroom space without overcrowding it. A uniquely curved canopy arced over it from the headboard, and the bed faced the single-pane French doors to provide a gorgeous view of the sun deck and the sea beyond. There was ample wardrobe space, and the entrance to the en suite bathroom was twice the size of a typical doorway. The bathroom boasted a deep soaking tub as well as a standing shower, and the wide porcelain sink was positioned directly in front of a large picture window rather than a mirror.

The sun was setting over the horizon, and Brennan opened the doors to the sun deck to investigate the amenities there. Not only were there two cushioned sun loungers, but there was also an outdoor bed complete with linens and curtains that could be drawn for extra privacy. The curtains seemed a bit redundant, however. Unless someone was swimming in the lagoon below, it would be impossible for anyone to see them. A small private pool filled the remainder of the space, and its water flowed right over the edge of the wall into a border of gravel. The villa was constructed on a stilt foundation over the lagoon, and although the turquoise water appeared to be very close, Brennan guessed that it was actually a good ten feet below them. A staircase off the side of the sun deck provided access to the lagoon, and she peered over it toward the water, wondering how deep it was.

"Hey," Booth said softly, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She melted into him and smiled toward the setting sun. "The luggage was just delivered. I thought maybe we could order room service tonight. Are you hungry yet?"

"Yes. That sounds fine." Brennan turned her head to brush her lips against his. Room service was available twenty-four hours a day, and the resort also offered three restaurants and two cocktail lounges. After they had perused the room service menu and made their selections, they returned to the sun deck to wait for their food. Brennan suggested they eat outside, indicating the small table placed between the sun loungers, and Booth agreed.

By the time they finished their meal, the sun had set completely, and the sky was incredibly clear. Living in the city made it easy to forget what the night sky was actually supposed to look like, and they spent several long minutes simply gazing upon the multitude of stars, interrupted only by the occasional wisp of cloud. Booth stood and reached for Brennan's hands, pulling her out of her seat and guiding her to the outdoor bed. It was softer than she'd expected, and although the curtains could close around the sides, the top was completely open to the night sky.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered, feeling small as she mentally catalogued a new set of constellations.

"Breathtaking," Booth agreed. Brennan glanced at him and smiled to discover that he hadn't been looking at the stars at all. Judging by the way he was looking at her, it was possible that he hadn't even noticed them. Booth was the only man who had ever been to make her feel so beautiful...more beautiful than the stars.

"I love you."

"I love you too, baby. More than I ever knew was possible."

She smiled and felt that she couldn't resist the urge to kiss him for another second. Their lips met softly at first, but the kiss deepened quickly, escalating until they were both gasping for breath. Brennan lifted his shirt over his head and raised her arms so that he could follow suit with her dress. His shorts followed swiftly, joining the pile along with their undergarments. It was dark with the exception of the low blue lights from the pool and a few lanterns placed strategically around the outdoor space. The flickering lantern light gave their skin a warm glow, and Booth took a full five minutes to study and caress every inch of her body.

Brennan trembled slightly when his hands finally reached her core, and she parted her legs to encourage him. He seemed intent on going slow, worshipping her body from head to toe, and that was fine with her for the time being. She did her best to lie still, allowing him to take his time, but she couldn't stifle the moan that rose from her chest when his wandering hands were joined by his mouth.

Booth smiled against her flushed skin, loving her sounds as much as ever. He could tell she that was nearing the end of her patience when she began to writhe beneath him. Her fingers laced through his hair, tugging just hard enough to get his attention. She used the leverage to pull his head back toward hers and captured his lips with a fiery intensity that sent his heart racing. As if he weren't already hard enough, she chose that moment to sweep her tongue into his mouth, and after several more steamy minutes of that, he was almost painfully erect.

"Now, Booth," she panted between kisses. "Please." He was all too happy to comply, shifting his body slightly until he was poised at her entrance. Booth paused, pulling his head back slightly to look at her.

"Open your eyes," he whispered, pleading. Her lashes fluttered open, and her blue eyes focused on his, now dark with arousal. He held her gaze for only a second before burying himself to the hilt, and Brennan's mouth opened in a soundless cry of ecstasy. He filled her completely, and she clung to him tightly as she watched him hovering over her. The star-strewn sky glittered above him, and Brennan gasped again as he began to move, slowly at first but steadily building up to a speed that had their toes curling into the mattress.

"Booth! I'm-"

 _Coming,_ he finished silently, fighting to postpone his own release as he felt her spasm around him. She moaned loud and long into the starry night, and when at last the aftershocks had subsided enough to allow coherency, she urged him to stop moving for a moment. He looked down at her in confusion as she pulled away from him, but she merely smiled the devious grin he adored and rolled onto her stomach, pushing her buttocks up at him invitingly.

Booth groaned in surrender and filled her once more, gripping her hips for leverage as he set a pounding rhythm. Each time he bottomed out, he forced a tiny cry of pleasure from her, and although she attempted to stifle the noises into the mattress, Booth had other ideas. He reached one hand forward to collect a fistful of her hair and pulled her head gently upward. Her cries became louder due to the lack of contact with the bed as well as the added intensity of having her hair pulled. It felt incredibly erotic.

Booth was nearing his release and dipped his free hand beneath her to seek out her clit. To his surprise and infinite pleasure, her hand was already busy at work there. He uttered an expletive into the night and pressed her hand harder against her sensitive flesh. Within seconds, she was shattering around him, and he slammed into her three more times before exploding within her pulsating heat.

"Oh my God," he groaned several minutes later. It took that long for either of them to attempt coherent speech.

"Yes," she breathed. They lay in each other's arms, gazing once more at the brilliant night sky above them. "I love you, Booth. I know I spent a long time denouncing the idea of marriage, but… I'm so glad you changed my mind. I'm so proud to be your wife." Booth's eyes went to her face, and he was surprised to see tears glistening on her cheeks.

"Hey." He used one finger to turn her face toward him, and he smiled at her as he gently wiped the moisture away. "I'm even prouder to be your husband. You've made me happier than I've ever been, and I can't believe that I'm lucky enough to have you. Sometimes it all feels like a dream. Like my life couldn't possibly be this good."

"I know what you mean," she agreed, giving him a tremulous smile. She was feeling overwhelmed with the intensity of her love for him, and another happy tear spilled over her lashes. He promptly kissed it away.

"I love you, Bones."

"I love you too."

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Booth and Brennan spent the majority of the following day in their villa, in part due to jet lag and in part due to their rather insatiable libidos. They made love so many times that they left both of their previous 'records' in the dust, and they christened every flat _and_ vertical surface within their small, private oasis. They ordered room service for both breakfast and lunch, but they'd agreed to try one of the resort's restaurants for dinner.

Of the three restaurants the island had to offer, the Lighthouse was the most formal. Booth intended to spend the majority of their vacation in board shorts and t-shirts, but he'd packed a pair of khaki dress pants and a nice shirt as well. The white button-down shirt reminded Brennan a little of his 'Tony' ensemble, and she eyed him hungrily for a few moments before slipping into her dress. Brennan had never been one to take _real_ vacations, so she had asked Angela to help her determine what to pack. She'd thought it was a wonderful solution until she'd gotten around to actually looking at the clothing Angela had selected. There were three bikinis, all apparently designed to give Booth a heart attack, and the rest was nothing but skimpy undergarments and sun dresses.

"Wow, Bones," Booth grinned appreciatively as he got his first look at her dress for the evening. It was closely fitted at the top, hugging her breasts perfectly, and the skirt was wide and flowy. The back was open and criss-crossed with thin straps, making it impossible to wear with a bra. The dress offered enough support, but she still felt quite a bit more exposed than usual. The color reminded Booth of the dress she'd worn on their first official date. It made her skin glow, just as it had back then.

"You like it?" she asked with a smirk.

"I _love_ it. Especially the back." He wrapped his arms around her from behind, and she shuddered at the warmth of him against her bare skin.

"One would think you'd have gotten enough of me today."

"I don't think that's possible." Booth kissed her bare shoulder, then pressed his lips gently to hers. "Come on, let's go."

The Lighthouse restaurant was situated on the opposite end of the island, but it didn't take more than ten minutes to walk there. The atmosphere was intimate and warm, made so by the sumptuous decor as well as the three-piece jazz band that played on the upper level. The building itself was round and constructed over the lagoon. Wooden decking fringed both levels to offer outdoor seating, most of the walls consisted entirely of windows, and the roof was a white sail raised into a pinnacle.

The conversation was light and happy while they waited for their food to arrive, and Booth's eyes never wavered from his wife. Brennan was just as focused on him, but a familiar looking face caught her eye as they were ordering their desserts. Booth watched her do a double take and followed her gaze to a medium-built man who was sitting a few tables away from them. He was a stranger, but Booth could tell immediately why he'd attracted Brennan's attention. The man was a dead ringer for Russ Brennan.

"Weird," Booth mused, slightly stunned at the sight of Russ's doppelgänger. Brennan nodded and sipped her wine. She knew the man couldn't have been her brother, and upon closer scrutiny, she could see the differences. His appearance had startled her initially though, and now she felt slightly uncomfortable.

"Yeah," she replied, shrugging it off.

"Speaking of Russ though…" Booth hesitated momentarily, not entirely sure why he'd forgotten the shadowy apparition of his brother-in-law at their wedding until that very second. He supposed he'd been distracted by the reception, followed by the wedding night, followed by a few short hours with his son, followed by traveling, and so on. Now, however, he realized he'd been remiss in not mentioning it sooner. "I saw him."

"What? When?" she was looking at him in sudden alarm, and her expression made Booth feel even worse.

"During the reception," he admitted. Brennan's mouth fell open, and he rushed onward. "He was standing in the shadows near the house, but I know he saw me. I nodded to him, and he waved back before he left, but...he was definitely there. With everything going on, I didn't think about it again until just now. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize, but…I can't believe he was there and didn't say anything to anyone." _Apparently he has that in common with Max,_ Brennan grumbled inwardly. Her brother had come back to peek in during her wedding, and she really didn't know how to feel about that.

"Yeah, I watched Amy for a little while after that. I don't think she knew anything about it. I guess Max told him about the wedding." Brennan had relayed the details of her visit to the prison when she'd returned home that night, and Booth had been proud of her for taking that step. What she _hadn't_ told him was that Angela had somewhat guilted her into it.

"It would've been very short notice. I talked to him less than a week before the wedding, so Max must know how to get ahold of him fairly quickly… Or else Russ is hiding out closer than we thought."

"That's pretty much what I thought at the time," Booth agreed.

"Wait… why didn't you arrest him?"

"His warrant isn't federal," he shrugged. "And arresting my wife's brother during our wedding reception wasn't something I wanted to do. He'll have to take responsibility for his actions eventually. Though I do hope it's sooner rather than later. Amy's a nice person, and she and the girls don't deserve to be treated like this."

Brennan nodded and thanked their waiter for the plate of dessert that had been placed in front of her. Part of her wished she'd seen Russ, but another part had no idea what she would've said to him if she had. She was still frustrated with him for lying to her last Christmas, but her initial anger had cooled somewhat. With everything that had transpired in the intervening months, she simply didn't have the energy to hold one more grudge. Russ would have to start over at repairing their relationship, but she wasn't completely opposed to giving him the chance to do so.

They finished their meal and headed back in the direction of their villa, walking on the sandy beach rather than taking the pathway through the lush foliage of the island. The sun had set, and the sky was once more alive with stars. The sky wasn't the only thing glittering, however. Booth gasped in surprise at the tiny waves that were lapping at the sandy beach.

"It's glowing!" he said, astonished. Brennan chuckled and squeezed his hand.

"Yes. Lingulodinium polyedrum."

"Huh?"

"Bioluminescent phytoplankton," she rephrased.

"Seriously?"

Brennan nodded and did her best to explain the circumstances which allowed microscopic organisms to make the waves and sand glow. Each receding wave left a host of what looked like glowing blue glitter upon the wet sand, and it was bright enough to light their faces as they stepped nearer to it.

"That's incredible. I wish we'd brought the camera."

"We can take pictures another night," she smiled, thinking that the boyish delight on his face was a much more appealing sight to behold.

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After a quick room service breakfast the next morning, Booth and Brennan set out on their first excursion. The Nooma was a traditional, handcrafted Maldivian dhoni, outfitted with an expansive deck as well as sleeping and bathing accommodations in its cabin. It was crewed by several male resort employees, and the newlyweds intended to spend a good portion of the day snorkeling over the reef. Brennan had expressed an interest in teaching Booth how to dive, and Booth had voiced a desire to try one of the fishing excursions offered by the resort. They had compromised with snorkeling; no lengthy instruction or insurance waivers required.

Brennan donned another sundress over the least revealing bikini Angela had packed, and Booth dressed just as he would if they were spending an afternoon by the pool at home. His wife eyed his familiar t-shirt and wondered if anyone they encountered would even know what the Flyers were. She insisted that they both wear hats to keep the sun off their faces.

"You should wear a hat, but I'll be fine," he replied, waving off her concern.

"Booth, messing up your hair is less important protecting your skin." She brought both hands to her hips and leveled a no-nonsense glare at her husband. She knew full well how sensitive he was about his carefully sculpted hairstyle.

"It has nothing to do with that," he mumbled. They stared one another down for a few moments before he sighed and put the hat on.

"Come here; you'll need sunscreen too. We're much closer to the equator than what your skin is accustomed to."

"I thought that's what the hat was for," Booth argued, whining a little.

"The hat protects your face; the sunscreen protects everything. Don't be difficult."

"That stuff smells disgusting."

"You're wearing it even if I have to hold you down."

"Promise?"

A reluctant smile curved Brennan's lips upward, and she shook her head at him. Twenty minutes later, they left their villa: each wearing a hat _and_ a thick layer of sunscreen. They met the captain and crew of the Nooma and took a short ride around the island to a portion of the reef that was proclaimed to be well-suited for snorkeling. Their equipment was already waiting for them on the boat, and Booth stripped his shirt off, tossing it onto the double sun lounger that was situated on the bow. He turned around to find Brennan mimicking his actions with her dress, and his eyes widened a little at the sight of her bathing suit.

"Holy shit, Bones, I thought you said that was the least revealing one…" He couldn't pull his gaze away from her body. The bikini was mostly black with creatively placed embellishments in pale blue. It wasn't as revealing as the one she'd worn in North Carolina the year before, and had subsequently shown off to the entire FBI forensic team, but this one pushed her breasts upward tauntingly. He shot a quick glance at the crew, fully expecting them to be staring at his wife, but he was pleasantly surprised to note that their expressions were neutral and courteous.

"It _is_. Wait till you see the blue one." Booth swallowed thickly and tried to coax his arousal into submission with a combination of counting and deep breathing.

They donned their snorkeling gear and sank into the warm water of the Indian Ocean. Although Brennan had tried to inform him of what he would see ahead of time, there was nothing that could have prepared him for the beautiful, vibrant environment that was waiting for them beneath the gentle waves. The reef was diversely colored and absolutely teeming with wildlife. They saw several manta and eagle rays, hawksbill turtles, and more species of fish than either of them could count. Booth was certain that if his wife had been able to speak around her mouthpiece, she would've been able to name many of the beautiful fish that populated the reef. Since she was forced to remain silent, however, he was left with only the marine wildlife knowledge he'd gleaned from _Finding Nemo_.

After a few hours, the crew signaled that it was time for lunch, and they set two meals upon a small table while Booth and Brennan changed clothes below deck. Brennan eyed the queen-sized bed with a furrowed brow.

"Do they offer overnight excursions?"

"I don't think so," he smirked.

"Then why…?" She spotted his devious expression. " _Oh."_

"Could be fun."

"Perhaps, if I wasn't so sore from yesterday. And last night. And this morning…" she grinned.

"Good point. Maybe we can try out our private pool later. I gotta admit, you've got me curious about that blue bikini." He gave her a wink and escorted her from the cabin.

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They enjoyed a delicious lunch at sea, and Brennan was pleased yet again with the vegetarian options offered by the resort. It was only their second day on the island, and she'd already gotten ideas for several new recipes she wanted to try at home.

After the boat returned to shore, Booth and Brennan made their way back to the villa and spent the afternoon relaxing. Brennan was amused to find a paperback copy of her second novel on the shelves of the complimentary library, and on a whim, she scribbled her signature and the date on the dedication page, just below her message to Booth. He smiled at her actions and slid his arms around her waist.

"You should sign it too," she suggested. Booth looked surprised for a moment but shrugged, taking the pen from her and signing his own name below hers. He also added the word 'Honeymoon' below the date she'd written.

"Can't say I've ever given an autograph before."

"It's a practice that actually dates back to the Middle Ages, but it didn't really become popular until the fifteenth century in Europe. University students used autograph books the way we now use yearbooks."

"Why do you know things like that?" he chuckled affectionately. She grinned back, knowing the answer but deciding to let it go. She knew 'things like that' because she had been a socially stunted child who had lived in her books, and her thirst for knowledge was something she'd never outgrown.

They spent the rest of the afternoon testing out the sound system, dancing, and enjoying one another's company. After showering off the remnants of the sea, they ventured across the island once more to have dinner at the Lime restaurant. The atmosphere was more informal than that of the Lighthouse, but the food was every bit as delicious. Unfortunately, Booth's dining experience was slightly diminished by the unwelcome attentions of a fellow guest.

A group of men huddled around the table next to theirs, chattering lively in French and trading amusing stories. Booth and Brennan had been enjoying a conversation of their own, but Brennan had managed to overhear part of one of their stories. Her ensuing laughter and quick glance in their direction attracted their attention immediately. One of them took the initiative to speak to her, and Brennan replied politely, introducing herself and her husband to the group of men. Once the men realized that they were American, they switched to English for Booth's benefit, but the youngest of the group seemed determined to exclude him.

The dark-haired man said something in French to one of his companions, and Booth frowned at the return to a language he didn't understand. Brennan was frowning too, but for another reason entirely. The man had made a blatant comment about her breasts, and she promptly retaliated. Within seconds they were trading insults, and the rest of the man's companions were looking highly embarrassed.

"Bones, what's he saying?"

"He…" she hesitated, knowing full well that Booth might overreact if she translated the stranger's rude commentary, and she thought perhaps it would be better to put Booth off for a little while. At least until they left the restaurant. "He's being rude and inappropriate."

" _What's he saying?"_ Booth repeated darkly. He had a pretty good idea that the man's remarks would have his blood boiling if he were able to understand them, and he recognized his wife's attempt to dodge the issue.

"I'll tell you later. Let's just finish our meal, okay?"

Booth wanted to argue but thought better of it. Brennan knew him better than anyone and knew how he would most likely react. He trusted her judgment. The rude man's companions apologized, insisting that their friend had indulged in one too many drinks, and they left a short time later.

"Will you tell me now?" he pressed. Brennan sighed and chewed her lip slightly.

"He was making inappropriate comments about my body."

"I assumed that much, but what specifically?"

"My breasts and...things he'd like to do to them," she explained, shifting uncomfortably. Booth's face flushed hotly, and he glanced out the window for a sign of the asshole.

"What did you say back?" Booth asked, once he had managed to unclench his jaw. Brennan averted her eyes guiltily.

"Something equally distasteful," she hedged. He quirked a brow at her, and she rolled her eyes in defeat. "I said that his penis was likely too miniscule for a woman such as myself to be able to feel anything...under those circumstances, and...that perhaps he would have better luck testing the technique with one of his male companions."

Booth's jaw fell open in shock, and he laughed loudly enough to draw the attention of several other patrons. She looked up in surprise, smiling reluctantly in response to his obvious mirth.

"You're amazing, baby. Just incredible. God, that's priceless. No wonder he got so pissed off. Serves him right."

"I didn't ruin the evening by getting into a vulgar argument with a stranger?"

"No, of course not," he assured her, reaching across the table for her hand. "He started it, and you finished it. I'm proud of you." Brennan smiled again and got lost in his dark eyes for a few minutes. "Come on," he continued, squeezing her hand. "Let's get out of here."

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 **There's more honeymoon to come. It probably won't be up by Wednesday because I've had some unexpected things come up, but I won't make you wait long. This is just a busy time of year even without the extra crap. See you soon!**


	38. Chapter 38

**Thank you all for your patience with the short delay on this chapter. To make up for it, this one is nearly twice as long as usual, but there just wasn't anywhere to break it up. This is the FINAL chapter! I know, it took me by surprise too, actually. Sorry I wasn't able to warn you. There's a longer note at the bottom, so for now...**

 **Enjoy!**

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Chapter 38

Brennan smirked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and shook her head in disbelief. _What the hell was Angela thinking?_ The electric blue bikini was the tiniest she'd ever seen. On anyone. _Ever._ She'd seen women wearing more material on topless beaches. The mere fact that her nipples remained concealed when she walked was a feat of engineering in itself. There was no chance in hell Brennan would be caught wearing this in public, and if she weren't confident that Booth was a man with a healthy heart, she wouldn't wear it in private either.

On their walk back to the villa, they had decided to 'do a few laps in the pool,' and Brennan knew full well that they'd be doing more than swimming. She could hear a splash from beyond the French doors that indicated her husband was already in the pool, and she gave her top a final tug to keep it in place. _Does anyone actually expect to swim in this?_

Booth had crossed the length of the pool a few times as he waited for her. When he reached the built-in stairs for the fourth time, he glanced toward the villa, wondering what was taking her so long. And there she was. He was frozen in astonishment.

 _Fuck. Me. Sideways._

"That could prove to be somewhat difficult in the water."

"Huh?" _Did I say that out loud?_ She was approaching the pool and descending the steps into his arms before he even realized that his mouth was hanging open. She smiled up at him and used the tip of her index finger to push his chin upward.

"A sideways sexual position is probably best achieved on a flat surface," she grinned.

"I didn't mean to say that out loud… Holy fuck, Bones. Where did Angela even find that?" His eyes were still slightly glazed, but he couldn't stop looking at her. _Or_ touching her...everywhere.

"I was wondering that myself actually." She palmed his pectoral muscles and slid her hands slowly upward, curving against his neck before thrusting into his hair to pull his head down toward her. They both moaned softly as their lips met, and Booth pressed one hand to the small of her back while the other drifted farther south. He hadn't been able to see the bathing suit from the back, but he could certainly feel it now. It was nothing but strings.

 _Christ, she's trying to kill me,_ he groaned inwardly. _Death by raging hard-on._

Brennan gasped into his mouth when his wandering hand gripped her hard and crushed her body against his. Her hands were clutching his hair tightly enough to cause pain, but the sensation only seemed to ignite his arousal further. He reached wordlessly toward the backs of her thighs and lifted her legs so that she could wrap them around his waist. She ground her core against his erection, eliciting a predatory growl from deep in his chest that had her shivering. _This_ was _her_ alpha male, and however much the trait might frustrate her on the job, she loved it that much more when it came to their sex life.

Their tongues had been vying for dominance, but in that moment, Brennan felt herself surrendering to his conquest. She wasn't a naturally submissive person, but she had to admit that Booth's dominant side had the ability to set her skin aflame. She wiggled against him, using her thighs to work his loose swim trunks over his hips, and in the moment that she succeeded, she felt her back come into contact with one of the pool walls. She hadn't realized he'd been moving them through the water.

Booth released her mouth and buried his face against the soft skin of her neck, stifling the urge to mark her. A hickey on their tropical honeymoon would probably _not_ go over well. He'd seen the majority of her wardrobe by this point, and he knew there was nothing she'd be able to do to conceal a lovebite. He continued downward, tasting her fragrant skin until he reached her breasts. With one swift tug on the knot behind her back, her top fell away to reveal two hardened nipples, and he spent several minutes paying tribute to each one. Brennan groaned as she felt his hands at the ties that held her bikini bottom together. _Tug_. _Gone._ She clung to his biceps, and her hips moved involuntarily, searching blindly for the connection she needed.

"Booth," she pled with a throaty gasp.

"Tell me, baby. Tell me what you need."

"I need to feel you inside of me. Please…"

"Like this?" he asked, pushing his fingers into her deeply and drawing a moan of pleasure from her lips.

"Yes… No…" She writhed against him, enjoying the sensations but wanting more. _Needing_ more.

"No?" Booth smiled at her, loving the way she looked when she was this aroused. She was so responsive to his touch, no matter the time or place. He loved knowing that she craved him every bit as much as _he_ craved _her._ He withdrew his fingers and quickly positioned himself at her entrance. "Did you mean _this?"_

"Yes," she cried out as he filled her with one smooth stroke.

"Open your eyes."

Brennan blinked rapidly in attempt to focus on his face, and she moaned again as he pinned her to the side of the pool and began to move. Booth wrapped one arm more securely around her waist and placed his free hand against her face, never breaking eye contact as he slid it slowly down her neck and to her chest. He flattened his palm over her heart, thrilling at the speeding pulse he felt there and knowing that she was dancing on the very edge of her climax. After a few moments, he moved his hand to cover one of her breasts, pinching her nipple with just enough pressure to send her rocketing over the precipice.

The instant change in her eyes combined with the exquisite way she clenched around him was his undoing. He shattered with a harsh cry of release, emptying himself within her and capturing her lips once more.

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The newlyweds rose early the following morning and made their way to the spa. They were scheduled for a couples massage, but Brennan was attempting to coax her husband into a facial as well. He was having none of it.

"It opens and clears your pores," she insisted, holding his hand as they trekked the stone pathway toward the spa.

"Bones, I'm a guy. You're lucky I agreed to a couples massage. I am _not_ getting a facial."

"Men get them all the time. It's very beneficial for your skin-"

" _Bones,"_ he groaned, smiling in spite of himself. "If _you_ want a facial, then you should have one. I'm happy to wait for you until you're done."

"I just had one before the wedding."

"Fair enough. Just the massage then," he replied. She rolled her eyes and decided to let it go.

Their massage therapists were both female. Brennan wouldn't have minded either way, but she _was_ relieved to see that both women were courteous and not overtly attentive to her husband's physique. She knew that Booth would never be able to relax with a male therapist. As it was, he took quite a long while to relax even with a female. His therapist made a comment about his tension level, and he willed his body to relax. He hadn't realized how much the touch of a woman who wasn't his wife would put him on edge, and Brennan attempted to reassure him in her typical blunt manner.

"You can relax, Booth. I'm fairly certain she's not interested in men." His head popped up from the massage table to shoot a look of wide-eyed incredulity at his wife followed by an apologetic glance at his massage therapist. The woman laughed heartily in response to Brennan's observation.

"Very true, madam. Your husband is safe with me," she replied in thickly accented English. Brennan grinned at Booth triumphantly.

"See?"

"Thanks, Bones," he replied, rolling his eyes playfully before relaxing back into the headrest.

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By the end of the hour, their bodies felt blissfully limber and somewhat gelatinous. They enjoyed a casual lunch at the Cayenne Grill, the resort's third restaurant, and set off for Malé on a sightseeing excursion that afternoon. As usual, Brennan lacked the typical female urge to shop, so they spent their time on the historical landmarks of the city. She had brushed up on Maldivian history before their trip, and by the middle of their tour, the other guests were paying more attention to her than to the tour guide. Brennan's version of 'brushing up' was more thorough than any training material the guides had been required to memorize.

The next day was their last full day on the island, and they spent the majority of it exploring the parts of the resort they had missed. There were numerous leisure activities available, but as the day wore on, it became clear that most of the other guests preferred to spend their time either sunbathing or drinking to intoxication. Or both.

As neither of those activities appealed to either Booth or Brennan, they focused on capturing the beauty of the island through photography. Brennan was intent on photographing as many species of flora as possible to show Hodgins, and the resort staff was more than willing to take pictures of the couple in various tropical settings.

They returned to the villa briefly to freshen up for dinner, and Booth's excitement grew as he led Brennan toward the meeting place for their final excursion. He had arranged it covertly, and Brennan's eyes lit up when she read the sign posted on the dock next to a large boat.

" _A dolphin cruise?"_

"Yeah," he nodded, grinning widely at her delighted expression. "We'll eat dinner on the boat and come back after sunset."

She was smiling so vividly that her cheeks ached by the time they boarded with a handful of other guests. As they had come to expect, the food was incredible, and Brennan added another dish to her list of meals she wanted to try at home. As they finished dessert, one of the crew members drew their attention to the starboard side where several spinner dolphins were leaping playfully over the water. Brennan grabbed Booth's hand and pulled him to the railing, and he stood behind her, locking his arms around her waist. They watched the dolphins swim and play for nearly a half an hour as the sun sank below the horizon, and Brennan leaned back into Booth's embrace contentedly.

"Thank you, Booth." Her voice was thick with emotion, and Booth didn't have to search far for the reason. He hadn't meant to dredge up sad memories, and now he was worried that this experience had done precisely that.

"You're welcome," he replied softly, kissing her temple. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I think I've actually forgiven her." Booth didn't need to ask which 'her' she was referring to. He squeezed her a little tighter.

"That's good, Bones. Do you feel better about everything?"

"Yes and no. I think it will take me a while longer to forgive Max. I know it's what my mother wanted from me, even more than she wanted forgiveness for herself, but…" She shook her head ruefully. "He's done a lot of things since she recorded that video. Good _and_ bad things. I do believe that he loves me, but it's hard to reconcile his actions with my own sense of morality."

Booth nodded, somewhat surprised to hear her acknowledge that her father loved her. It was the first time that he could recall her saying those words out loud, and he knew how much difficulty she'd been having with placing any amount of trust in her father.

"There's no rush, baby. I think it would be nice for you to have your dad in your life, but you don't owe him anything." She turned to look at him with one eyebrow raised.

"You certainly seemed to think I owed him a prison visit." Booth grimaced slightly. That was partially true, though he'd been careful not to pressure her. It didn't surprise him that she had been able to read his silence so well.

"No, I thought it would be good for you. Cathartic, maybe. I know you said you felt uncomfortable… Do you think it would be less awkward not to have the safety glass between you? We could probably work out a private visitation room for next time."

"Maybe," she shrugged, not entirely sure she would be up to another visit any time soon. "You don't have to go out of your way, Booth. I don't even know when I'll see him again. We have a lot going on in the next couple of months. Zack leaving, the Chicago trip, Parker's birthday, the beginning of the school year…"

"I know, Bones. You're right, we should focus on us right now. On our family."

Brennan nodded and leaned back a little further to kiss him tenderly. They would be heading back to the States the next day, but they still had one last glorious Maldivian sunset to share.

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"You gave him a harmonica?"

"Yeah…?" Booth said, shrugging as the word came out sounding like a question. _What's wrong with a harmonica?_

"Does Zack know how to play one?"

"He can learn. Being a hero can get boring sometimes."

"Is that what you told him?" Brennan asked, smiling gently at her husband. _Her_ hero.

"Something like that." They fell silent for a few moments, and Brennan's mind drifted a bit, wondering how her former graduate student was handling his new environment. Booth watched her expression darken slightly. "He'll be okay, Bones. Zack might not be as tough as you, but he's not on his own over there. I checked out the unit he's attached to, and it's a good one. Solid leadership, great track record… They'll have his back."

Brennan nodded, reluctantly accepting his assurance and uttering a soft, "Thanks," before leaning her head on his shoulder. They were on a plane again, but this time they were headed to Chicago. They'd had a week of respite from travel, and Parker had spent the first of his summer weeks with them. Booth had been thrilled to have his son for the Fourth of July, something that Rebecca had never allowed in the past, and the only dark spot on the week had been Zack's departure. Booth and Brennan had thrown a holiday barbeque/pool party/going away party on the fourth, and Zack had officially left the country the following day.

Shortly before the wedding, Brennan had been requested to give a presentation on her bullet reconstruction method in addition to being the keynote speaker for the conference at Northwestern. She'd been hesitant to agree at first, since she'd had very little time to put anything together in terms of media. Speeches, she could handle, but this sort of thing would require a visual aid. Angela had come to her rescue once again, creating a short demonstration that could be displayed for the audience. Brennan would have actually preferred that Angela come with her to Chicago, especially considering the huge part the artist had played in putting Brennan's theory to work in the Cugini case and several others since. Hodgins had already planned a tropical vacation of their own, however, and Angela hadn't been interested in skipping out on that opportunity.

Booth and Brennan got checked into their hotel before heading over to Northwestern to meet with the event coordinator at a cocktail party being hosted by the university. The man had been incredibly persistent in persuading Brennan to accept the honor of the keynote address, and she wondered if she (as well as her husband) would be able to tolerate his exuberance in person. Although this wouldn't be the first time she'd returned to her alma mater for this sort of occasion, she hadn't been particularly interested in attending the conference until Booth suggested that they go together. Brennan was slightly disappointed that Parker couldn't join them, but they were already making plans for a family vacation during the Christmas holiday.

"Dr. Brennan! Oh my God, it's so wonderful to finally meet you. I am _such_ a huge fan. Dr. Gary Harding," he thrust his hand toward her enthusiastically. "We spoke on the phone, of course." Brennan smothered a groan of annoyance and reluctantly shook the man's hand.

"Yes, nice to meet you. This is my husband, Special Agent Seeley Booth of the FBI." She gestured to Booth, who extended his own hand and gave the irritating man a half-cut version of the stare-down. He hadn't missed the fact that _Dr. Harding_ had been staring openly at his wife's breasts nearly the whole time he'd been prattling on. He gripped the man's hand firmly, smirking as Harding pulled away and flexed his fingers for relief.

Harding launched into a lengthy description of the presentations that would be given over the following few days, but Brennan was only half-listening. She took in her husband's tight frown and agitated expression, understanding almost immediately that he had seen something she hadn't. Dr. Harding wasn't merely a fan, as he'd proclaimed; he had a _crush_.

 _No wonder he wanted to get me here so badly,_ Brennan mused, smirking as she realized that he wouldn't have been expecting her to arrive with her husband. They hadn't announced their marriage publically, though she supposed it was only a matter of time before her publisher would want to release the information. Brennan was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't register anything Dr. Harding was babbling about until Booth's voice interrupted him.

"Wait, did you say _Stires?_ " he growled. Brennan looked up in alarm.

"Well...yes, he'll be speaking on Wednesday," Harding replied, flummoxed by Booth's surly expression. Brennan relaxed slightly.

"What day is your forensic speech?" Booth asked her.

"Both of my presentations are scheduled for Tuesday."

"So we don't need to be here on Wednesday then?"

"No," she smiled, pleased that their minds had been in the same place. Harding seemed to deflate as he listened to their conversation.

"I was under the impression that Dr. Stires was your doctoral advisor, Dr. Brennan. You don't want to hear his presentation?"

"Yes, he was my advisor, and _no_ , I won't be subjecting myself to his presence this week or ever again, if I can help it. I'm honestly surprised that he was invited to speak, considering the fact that he all but destroyed his own credibility during a murder trial not long ago."

"When was this?" Harding asked, seeming both appalled and hungry for gossip.

"December of 2005," Brennan replied coolly. She hoped that Michael wouldn't show up to harass her on Tuesday; she had absolutely no desire to see him again. _Though watching his face when he finds out I got married would certainly be amusing…_

Harding frowned, trying to recall if he'd heard anything about the trial Brennan spoke of. True, Stires was known as something of a philanderer, and a good number of the university faculty didn't like him, but he'd had no idea that Stires' most famous student found him so distasteful. In fact, Harding had heard precisely the _opposite_ , and he'd been looking forward to meeting the illustrious Dr. Brennan for reasons that weren't exactly professional. Being introduced to her husband had been quite a surprise...and a disappointment.

Booth and Brennan managed to sneak away from Dr. Harding a short while later, and they slipped covertly out the door to head back to their rented SUV. They drove around the campus for a few minutes so that Brennan could give him a quick tour before heading back to their hotel.

"Are you worried that he'll show up tomorrow?" Booth asked quietly as they rode the elevator up to their room.

"He?"

"Stires."

"Oh." She'd briefly forgotten the man's existence. "No, I'm not _worried_. I'd prefer not to see him again. _Ever,_ " she grumbled. "But I'm not worried about it. He's insignificant. I'll give my presentations, and then we can leave. Someone else is giving a closing address, so I won't need to return for anything else."

"Good," Booth replied, smiling down at her before unlocking the door and holding it open for her. "So we have the night to ourselves then."

"So it seems," she grinned back. "Did you have a particular activity in mind?" He pulled her against him abruptly, bending to leave a trail of kisses on her jaw.

"As a matter of fact, I do…"

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Booth sat in the large auditorium at Northwestern University the next day, doing his best to keep his eyes open through the third presentation of the day. Brennan's keynote speech had opened the conference, and he was proud to say that he'd been able to follow quite a lot of it. Her forensic presentation was next on the schedule, and as soon as she finished, they would be making a hasty exit. The man currently on the stage was likely in his sixties, and his voice was incredibly soporific. Booth stifled a yawn and grumbled inwardly. _There isn't enough caffeine in the_ world _to counteract this guy._

He glanced at his wife in the seat next to him and was unsurprised that she seemed to be having no trouble staying awake. Her eyes did look slightly unfocused, however, as though she weren't truly listening to the man's speech. That suspicion was confirmed when her forensic presentation was announced next and her expression remained unchanged. Booth elbowed her gently to get her attention, and she blushed slightly as she rose from her seat.

Brennan's mind had indeed been elsewhere… Back in their hotel room, replaying the activities of the previous evening. She felt the heat in her cheeks and forced her mind to focus on her task. Angela's visual aid was ready to go, and a helpful grad student handed her a remote as she climbed the steps to take the stage once more. The presentation itself was fairly straightforward, but the images Angela had used were the actual reconstruction scenarios from the Cugini case. Due to the aftermath of Agent Kenton's misdeeds, and particularly of Booth's _very_ close call, this wasn't a case that Brennan enjoyed rehashing. As such, she kept her presentation as brief as possible, filling the rest of her time slot with questions from the audience.

Booth smiled up at his wife as she displayed an effortless command of the stage. He'd seen her in this particular element more than once, but his mind always seemed to drift back to the first time he'd laid eyes on her. She hadn't been what he'd expected at all. With a name like Temperance, he'd assumed he would be meeting an older woman, perhaps a female version of the 'Dr. Sandman' who had just finished speaking. But to his everlasting surprise and pleasure, the Dr. Brennan he'd met that day was a breath of fresh air. Intelligent, beautiful, sexy, adorably awkward… And now she was his wife. _I really am the luckiest sonofabitch alive,_ he thought, grinning up at her like the lovesick fool he was.

To their mutual relief, Stires was nowhere to be seen, and once her presentation had concluded, they snuck out of the auditorium as covertly as possible. It was nearly lunchtime, so they headed south toward the downtown area to find a specific pizzeria that Booth insisted had the best pizza he'd ever eaten. Dimo's was located nearly Wrigley Field, which was how he'd stumbled upon the place to begin with, and he made a point to stop there whenever he was in the area.

After lunch, they spent the afternoon wandering around downtown Chicago. They managed to finish up their shopping for Parker's sixth birthday, and both agreed that there were a great many activities he would've enjoyed - Addler Planetarium, Shedd Aquarium, and the carnival rides of Navy Pier, just to name a few. Booth found himself missing his son more than he had expected, and he hoped that they would be able to return to the area as a family at some point.

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Brennan chose the restaurant for dinner that evening, opting for something a bit less formal than her usual preference. She knew that fancy restaurants had the ability to make Booth uncomfortable, and it had been a very long day. Neither of them were up for anything over-the-top. They were waiting for the server to come back with their desserts when Brennan heard a female voice call her first name from the next table.

The woman and her date had just been shown to their seats, and when Brennan glanced in her direction, her eyes widened in surprise.

"Melissa?"

"It _is_ you! Oh my God!" The woman practically leapt up from her chair and rushed toward their booth, squeezing in next to Brennan and pulling her into a quick hug. Brennan was momentarily startled but returned the hug as kindly as she could manage. She was stunned by Melissa's sudden appearance, but she'd have known her anywhere.

"It's nice to see you. Unexpected, but very nice." She smiled softly and gestured to Booth. "This is my husband, Seeley Booth. Booth, this is Melissa Wilkes. We were in the same foster home together when I was seventeen." Booth reached across the table to shake the woman's hand, wondering which particular nightmare Melissa had shared with his wife and doing his best to keep that curiosity out of his expression.

"Yes," Melissa confirmed wistfully. "We looked out for each other when we could. Is this the same person you dedicated your second book to, Temperance?" Brennan nodded. "I've read all of your books; they're wonderful. I was so surprised when I saw the first one in the bookstore; I couldn't help but feel a little proud of you. You've come a long way."

"Yes, I have. Being an author is more like a hobby most of the time, though. I'm a scientist first and foremost," Brennan replied with a gentle smile.

"That doesn't surprise me at all," Melissa chuckled. "You were always the smartest person I'd ever met, and that's still true today."

The two women exchanged pleasantries for a few more minutes, and Booth listened politely as they caught up with the main details of one another's lives. He wondered if Melissa had been abused as well. Had she perhaps been locked in a trunk for a ridiculous 'offense?' Had she been beaten and thrown down a flight of stairs? Had she been made to feel as though she were insignificant and worthless? His silent questions seemed to penetrate Melissa's awareness somehow, because her next statement shifted the conversation to that very topic.

"Did you hear about Mr. Taylor?" she asked, lowering her voice conspiratorially. Brennan stiffened at the sound of the man's name, and she shook her head, not entirely sure she wanted to know.

"We live in DC. We're only here for a conference at Northwestern." Booth heard the tension in her voice and reached for her hand beneath the table.

"His body was found a few months back," Melissa replied quietly. Her tone could've been mistaken as the somber tone of respect for the dead were it not for the satisfied gleam in her eye. "The cops found him in his home after a house fire, but apparently he was dead _before_ the place burned."

"He was murdered?" Booth asked, taking in the stunned expression on his wife's face.

"Most likely. The article I read said the body had been 'mutilated' and that he'd most likely bled out. Slowly, I hope. Bastard…"

Brennan felt cold and knew that her face had probably lost most of its color. She swallowed convulsively, raising her glass of water to her lips with a trembling hand. _Surely the man had made a number of enemies over the years. What are the odds that…_ She mentally shied away from the disquieting thought that had crossed her mind and forced her mouth to move.

"Do the police have any leads on who killed him?"

"I don't think so, but I don't know if the investigation is still going on. They had his picture in the paper for a while asking people to come forward to claim his remains, but that stopped a few weeks ago. I don't know what's going on now. Temperance…why do you look so upset? I mean, sure, it was a violent way to go, but the guy had it coming. I'm sure he probably messed with a lot of girls over the years. Any number of people could've wanted the guy dead."

"Yes," Brennan replied distractedly, doing her best to maintain her composure. Melissa eyed her curiously for another moment before changing the subject, and a few minutes later, she said her farewells and returned to her own table. She and Brennan exchanged email addresses so that they could keep in touch, and Booth scooted closer to his wife once they were alone. She met his eyes nervously, and they exchanged their typical nonverbal communication for a few moments before Booth broke the silence.

"Are you thinking…?"

"That Max might've killed Bill Taylor? Of course. Aren't you?" She felt sick to her stomach at the idea that her father could've killed yet _another_ person for _her._ Booth sighed, squeezing her hand in support.

"Well, first of all, which foster father was this?"

"The one who molested me," she mumbled under her breath. "And Melissa. And who knows how many others."

Now Booth was feeling sick as well, and not just at the reminder that his wife had been raped as a teenage girl, though that would've certainly been enough. Unfortunately, Booth was pretty sure that if Max had figured out what had happened back then and how to find the bastard, there was a very good chance that he would have killed him. He decided to keep that opinion to himself, however; it was clear that Brennan was very disturbed by the idea.

"You know… Melissa was right," he pointed out. "There are probably quite a few people who wanted the guy dead." Brennan sighed and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He let her sit for a few minutes before suggesting they head back to their hotel, and she nodded mutely, waving one last goodbye to Melissa as Booth guided her out of the restaurant with a hand at her back.

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"You're really sure you want to get into this?"

"Booth, I need to know. I barely slept last night; my mind just wouldn't let me rest. I'm sure I could talk my way into whatever crime lab processed the remains. Maybe they still have the bones if the case is still open. _I need to know,_ " she repeated.

Booth cradled her face in both of his hands and stared into those disarming blue eyes for a few moments. This could potentially be the start of a very long trip down the proverbial rabbit hole, and although he knew she was strong enough to handle it, the last thing he wanted was to see her in pain. Particularly more pain caused by Max Keenan.

"Okay, Bones," he relented. As if he could have denied her. "Let's start at the beginning. What can you tell me about this guy Taylor?"

"I was there for about five months. Melissa was there for longer, I think. He was physically abusive to all of the children, but to my knowledge, he only molested the girls…" She trailed off as the memories flooded her mind, and Booth put his arms around her gently, recalling the conversation they'd had about this particular home not long after they'd gotten together. She had said that she'd been molested on 'at least one occasion that she knew of.' When he'd asked her what that meant, he hadn't been sure what had stunned him more: her answer or the matter-of-fact way in which she'd given it.

" _I know of at least one because I was conscious, but in that particular home, my foster father was partial to hitting or slamming our heads into something. Losing consciousness wasn't a rare occurrence."_

"This was the guy whose wife said you were the one at fault, right?" Booth asked, remembering more of the conversation.

"Yes. I don't know if she knew that he was molesting the other girls as well, but she was quick to point the finger at me when I reported his actions to my caseworker. The abuse was never confirmed, and as far as I know, no charges were pressed. I'm sure he couldn't have gotten away with it forever though. I would hope that at some point, enough girls would've come forward with allegations of their own and that at least one would've been taken seriously."

"You never looked into it after you aged out?"

"No. I just wanted to move on," she sighed, pulling out of his embrace to meet his troubled gaze.

"I can check his record. Maybe we can track down the guy's social services file too," Booth told her, already forming a mental list of sources to check.

"If he has a criminal record, then I'm sure you can find it, but you may not be able to get his DCFS file. Not only was the system incredibly corrupt during that time period, but their document retention period has lapsed. The files were only kept for seven years after the child aged out. The records weren't digitized until the late nineties, and that practice wasn't retroactive. They only did the current cases on file, not those of children who had already come of age."

"How do you know all of that?"

"A foster child is permitted to request his or her own file once they age out, or it may be obtained by a child's adoptive parents. But that opportunity is gone after that seven-year period, at least for the files that were never converted to an electronic format. I requested mine as soon as I turned eighteen."

"You still have it?"

"Yes. It's at home in the safe I brought from my apartment, along with my will and other documents like that. It gives no record of the other children in the homes, unfortunately. That sort of information is kept private unless someone makes a special request. Even then, the details are only released with the other person's express permission. That wouldn't be an option at this point."

Booth frowned, slightly surprised at the news that she'd hung on to that file for so many years. He knew without looking at it that it contained any number of ugly details about his wife's childhood, and the thought that it was sitting in his home at that very moment was discomforting. He gave himself a mental shake and refocused his attention on the matter at hand.

"So seven years, huh?

"Yes. It would've been destroyed in 2001."

"And the files kept on foster _parents_ work the same way?"

"I don't know about that, but I'm sure we can find out. Checking criminal records would be the most obvious place to start. If that doesn't turn anything up, then we could try talking to someone at DCFS."

"Okay," he nodded. "It's a shame we don't have your file with us. Though I'd really rather not have to see it... _ever_...there might be something in it to point me in the right direction with the local PD."

"What is it you want to know? I can give you the list of names and some details about each home," she offered.

"That would help. Do you remember the timeframes?"

Brennan nodded and paced across their hotel room to dig a legal pad out of her messenger bag. Booth rubbed the back of his neck as he watched her write the list of names followed by the dates and details relating to each one. These names were etched forever in his wife's memory, and now they would be trapped in his as well. When at last she handed him the notepad, he sighed deeply and willed his uneasy stomach to toughen up.

 _Mr. and Mrs. David Anderson - December 1991 thru March 1992. They requested a change of placement._

 _Mr. and Mrs. Paul Carter - March 1992 thru July 1992. Neglect. Food/water deprivation._

 _Mr. and Mrs. James Hammel - July 1992 thru September 1992. Physical and emotional abuse. No visible proof to show the caseworker._

 _Mr. and Mrs. Jack Campbell - September 1992 thru December 1992. Physical abuse. Removed from the home after being locked in a trunk for two days._

 _Mr. and Mrs. Aaron Roberts - December 1992 thru April 1993. Physical abuse confirmed by social worker. Removed from home after being pushed down a flight of stairs._

 _Mr. and Mrs. Michael Lewis - April 1993 to August 1993. Emotional and verbal abuse. They requested a change of placement._

 _Mr. and Mrs. Troy Collins - August 1993 to December 1993. They requested a change of placement when Mrs. Collins became pregnant._

 _Mr. and Mrs. William Taylor - December 1993 to May 1994. Physical abuse including sexual assault. Reported but never confirmed. They requested a change of placement._

 _Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel Edwards - May 1994 to October 1994. Emotional and verbal abuse. Aged out._

Booth's hands were trembling by the time he reached the bottom of the list. His wife had suffered some sort of abuse in seven out of her nine foster homes, and five of those placements had resulted in _physical_ abuse. He felt his stomach roll and fought to keep his breakfast from making a reappearance. Booth placed the notepad on the small coffee table and pulled Brennan into a tight embrace. Neither of them spoke, and it wasn't precisely clear who was comforting whom.

"I need a few minutes, baby. Just some fresh air, okay?" he told her, tilting his head toward the balcony outside of their hotel room. She nodded and watched him go, but she kept her seat, knowing that he usually preferred to process things alone.

Booth stepped onto the balcony and closed the sliding door behind him. They were on the ninth floor of their hotel, and he hung his head toward the ground, gazing blindly at the pedestrians on the sidewalk below. The names and details she'd written echoed persistently through his mind. She had been displaced, in one way or another, every December from the year her parents had left to the year before she'd turned eighteen. _Yet another reason for her to hate the holidays,_ he thought sourly. Though he had to admit that after the trunk incident she most likely would've _wanted_ to be moved. He hadn't realized that the incident had taken place in December. _Chicago in December_. _No wonder she had to be treated for exposure._

Booth found himself wishing they were back home at that moment. He would've very much liked to go a few dozen rounds with his punching bag. Although the fresh air was welcome, the humidity of July in the midwest was stifling, and he retreated back into the air-conditioned comfort of their room after a few more minutes.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly. Booth frowned.

"I feel like I should be asking you that."

"None of this is news to me, Booth. I've made my peace with it as best I could over the years. However, I can sympathize with your perspective. For instance, I would be quite reluctant to investigate the murder of someone who had hurt _you_ in the past."

"Yeah," he nodded, accepting her logic. "But you'd still do it if I asked."

"Yes."

"Which is why I'll do it for you. If you're really sure you want to pursue it." He held his breath, knowing her answer but desperately wishing for a different one.

"I need to know."

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After a quick internet search on William "Bill" Taylor, Booth and Brennan were able to determine which area of the city to focus their efforts upon. A few well-directed phone calls led Booth not only to the Cook County crime lab that had processed the man's remains, but also to the local homicide division that had opened the case. They had intended to fly back to DC that day, but they decided to prolong their departure by a few days in order to speak to as many people in person as they could manage.

Their first stop was the crime lab, and as Brennan had predicted, her reputation was enough to get her through the door. The medical examiner was all too happy to share his records, but unfortunately that was the end of the evidence trail.

"You don't have the remains?" Brennan asked the young man.

"No, they went unclaimed for ninety days. We're required to hold onto them for that long, but then the remains are cremated and buried in a local cemetery." The man shrugged helplessly, and Brennan scowled back at him in shock.

"But this man was the subject of an open murder case. His remains were evidence of a crime. Surely that should've required a different protocol."

"Unfortunately, long-term storage of human remains is beyond the capacity of our current resources. In most cases like this, a family member comes forward to claim the remains. They're released for burial or cremation at the discretion of the local or state police department, depending on who is handling the case. In this situation, there were no solid leads for long enough that it became a cold case, and at ninety days with no one to claim the remains…"

"So they were cremated last month?" Brennan asked, glancing at the date of the autopsy report in her hands. The remains had been found in March.

"That's correct," the medical examiner replied. Brennan pursed her lips and shook her head in frustration, and Booth shifted uncomfortably at her side.

"I work in the Medico-Legal lab at the Jeffersonian Institute. We have thousands of skeletal remains in long-term storage, some dating as far back as the Civil War era. Older, even. They're sent to us from all over the country, all over the _world_. We're the best, but we're certainly not the only facility of our kind. Why doesn't Cook County utilize such resources?"

"I'm not sure, Dr. Brennan. I'm sorry."

Brennan sighed again and frowned down at the autopsy report. The 'mutilation' Melissa had referred to was actually castration. The tissue of the severed organ had been found near the body but still far enough away to indicate that it had been removed prior to the fire. She squinted at the autopsy photos with a practiced eye. Taylor had been identified with dental records, but his face was unrecognizable. There had been enough remaining lung tissue to confirm the absence of smoke inhalation, indicating that he had indeed been dead _before_ his home had caught fire. Her eyes fell upon yet another detail that provoked her ire.

"This report says that cause of death was exsanguination by means of castration," she announced. Booth's eyes widened in shock at the new information. "Did _you_ perform the autopsy?"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan."

"Your report doesn't include evidence of any bone trauma or severance of the femoral artery. How did you determine that the castration caused him to bleed out?"

"Well…" The medical examiner avoided her piercing gaze, feeling as though he were back in school, being drilled by one of his professors. "I thought it was a reasonable conclusion," he muttered.

Booth closed his eyes in anticipation of his wife's response, and he wasn't disappointed. She took the startled young man to task for several minutes on the perils of jumping to conclusions in their line of work. The man hadn't defleshed the bones to analyze the skeletal remains, meaning that there could have been evidence of some other cause of death that would now remain a mystery. The tox screen had been negative for drugs or poisons, but there was no mention of any examination of the hyoid to check for signs of strangulation, no in-depth study of the skull to check for indications of an intracranial hemorrhage… On and on she went, and after fifteen minutes of listening to her berate the poor man, Booth felt compelled to step in.

"Look, Bones… It is what it is, right? We'll have to work with what we've got and see what else we can get from the local PD. I'm sure this guy will take your advice into consideration on future cases." The medical examiner opened his mouth to reply that he was obligated to follow an established protocol, but Booth silenced him with an intense stare.

"Certainly," the man squeaked.

Brennan read through the file twice, committing the details to memory before handing the manila folder back to the medical examiner. Booth ushered her out of the lab with a hand to her back and thanked the man for his help. Brennan scoffed and remained silent until they were back in the rental car.

"That was utterly ridiculous. How can they knowingly and _deliberately_ destroy forensic evidence in a murder case? It's outrageous."

"I agree, Bones, but unfortunately there's nothing we can do about it. Let's hope the cops have something else we can use, alright?"

Brennan sighed and nodded, pouting at the scenery gliding by outside of her window.

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Their visit to the local Chicago PD precinct seemed doomed from the very beginning. The front desk was being run by an older, rather abrasive woman in a standard desk sergeant uniform, and even after Booth flashed his badge, it took a good twenty minutes for a homicide detective to favor them with his presence. Booth analyzed the man's demeanor as they spoke, and it was quite clear that the detective thought they were wasting his time.

Detective Whitson explained that their crime scene team had done a sweep after the fire department had given the all-clear, but that the building had been too unstable to leave in its ruined state for any significant length of time. The fire department had allowed time for the CSI team to collect as much evidence as they could, but the charred remnants of the home had been cleared less than a week after the fire. Not only were there no human remains for Brennan to analyze, but now they were being told that there was no crime scene to investigate either.

Booth cursed under his breath and asked, as politely as possible, if they could take a look at the casefiles and whatever evidence they had stored. It seemed as though the detective was going to refuse the request, but after a few moments' consideration, he gave a stiff nod and led them to a large storage room.

"Anything we've got will be in here," Whitson told them, handing them a box labeled with Bill Taylor's name and the date his remains were discovered. Next, he thrust a clipboard at Booth and said, "You'll need to sign in. Keep the box in this room. There's a table over there you can use."

Booth glanced in the direction he'd pointed and signed his name quickly, taking the box from Brennan so that she could sign in as well. Detective Whitson took the clipboard back and handed them a business card.

"I need to get back upstairs. You can page me at this number if you have any questions. Otherwise, you can sign out at the front desk when you're done."

"Thanks," Booth replied sardonically, frowning at the man's dismissive attitude. He was well aware that relations between the Chicago PD and the FBI were strained at best, but he didn't appreciate being treated like a nuisance. He exchanged an irritated glance with his wife and followed her to the long table near the door.

"That man was rather rude," Brennan observed, lifting the lid from the file box and sifting through its contents carefully. There wasn't much to go on. Most of the home had been photographed after the fire, but very few items had been retained as evidence. Among the physical evidence were the remnants of a wristwatch, a melted cell phone, a blackened leather wallet, and four thick, partially melted cable ties, which had been closed and subsequently cut open again.

Booth grunted in agreement and started reading the casefile. It was ridiculously thin. The body had been found sitting upright in a kitchen chair with no obvious signs of forced entry or struggle within the home. The majority of the victim's clothing had been reduced to cinders, and all that had remained on the body were the cell phone, wallet, and wristwatch. The severed cable ties had been found on the floor, one near each leg of the chair. There had been traces of an accelerant, but only on the body itself. The rest of the home had burned more slowly, but unfortunately the time of day and the location of the home had resulted in a delayed call to the fire department. By the time the trucks had arrived on the scene, there had been very little left of the structure.

Brennan had shifted her focus to the photographs of the scene. It was gruesome, but certainly nothing she wasn't accustomed to. The CSI team had found evidence of a large pool of blood on the floor beneath the chair, and the sample had been matched to the victim. That information hadn't been included in the autopsy report, and she wondered if the medical examiner had known about it when he ruled cause of death as exsanguination. If that were the case, she supposed she should feel guilty for tearing into him as she had. Given the presence of so much blood at the scene, she would've been likely to come to the same conclusion.

"Anything?" Booth asked, glancing up from the file in his hands. Brennan shook her head.

"Not really. Lots of blood at the scene, confirmed to have come from the victim. He probably did bleed out, though whether or not it was due to castration remains to be seen."

Booth shuddered involuntarily at the mental image. As a man, his brain was hard-wired to empathize with an injury to the male genitalia, but he had to agree with Melissa Wilkes - this guy had it coming. It also didn't escape his notice that it was a fitting way to kill a rapist, particularly one who had forced himself upon teenage girls. The issue, of course, was that it was precisely something that a vengeful father would do. Brennan was thinking in a similar direction, and her next words caught Booth off guard.

"I'd like to check police records for any other cases with similar circumstances. Going back to…" She paused, running through a timeline of what little she knew about Max's recent activities. "Let's say as far back as June of last year."

Booth sighed but couldn't find a reason to dissuade her. He knew precisely why she'd decided upon that timeframe, and he had to agree that it was as a good idea. She'd been kidnapped in June of the previous year, and Max had disappeared from the scene without a trace. He had resurfaced in December only to disappear once more, and he hadn't made another appearance until April. They had no way of knowing what he'd been up to during those months he'd been gone.

Booth paged Detective Whitson and made the request. The man was predictably slow to complete the task, but eventually he showed up once more with a list he'd compiled from the local crime database. Booth thanked him and scanned it quickly, reading through eight months' worth of names until he reached on that was familiar.

"Bones," he said quietly. She looked up from the crime scene photographs and met his troubled gaze. "That list of yours… Wasn't there someone named Hammel?" He had the list in his pocket, but he didn't want to pull it out in front of Detective Whitson. The details of his wife's troubled teenage years didn't need to be called into evidence unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Yes," she replied. "James Hammel." Booth nodded and handed her the list so that she could read the name for herself. The case dated back to mid-February and was listed as closed.

"Would you be willing to pull another file for us?" Booth asked the detective. "This one here from February. James Hammel?" Detective Whitson rolled his eyes theatrically but copied down the case number before shuffling away. He returned a few minutes later with an accordion file.

"You think these two are related?" he asked, reluctantly curious. The Hammel case had been handled by a different detective, but the dates were less than a month apart.

"Maybe; maybe not," Booth shrugged, unwinding the thin cord of the file. Brennan gathered the files from the Taylor case into a neat stack and pushed them out of the way before leaning in to read the Hammel file over her husband's shoulder.

The cases were eerily similar, and yet not. It was another house fire, this time in a mobile home. The fire had burned longer than it should have before responders arrived on the scene, once again due to the time of day and the poor location. There had been no trace of an accelerant detected, but the fire had burned long enough that the body had been almost completely skeletonized. Hammel had been found in a horizontal position on what had remained of his couch, and there had been absolutely no trace of foul play of any kind. No sign of forced entry; no discernible cause of death. He was presumed to have died in the fire, but there hadn't been enough tissue left to confirm or deny that theory. Cause of death was listed as 'undetermined.' Once again, no one had come forward to claim the remains, and they had been cremated after ninety days.

Brennan placed her elbow on the table and leaned her forehead into her palm. She wanted to speak openly with her husband, but she knew that it would be unwise to do so in front of the detective. She met Booth's solicitous gaze and gestured toward the door with her eyes to indicate that she was ready to leave. They reorganized the files to their original states, thanked the detective, and signed out with the grumpy desk sergeant before heading back to their hotel.

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Brennan paced the floor of their hotel room, her head spinning with the influx of information. Booth held his tongue but watched her for signs that she was ready to talk. In the meantime, he pulled her list from his pocket and re-read the details she'd given him for Taylor and Hammel. They'd discussed Taylor at length, and the sexual assault seemed to be the primary factor, since someone had literally castrated the man. Brennan had written that Hammel had been physically abusive as well, but he'd left no visible proof of the abuse that she could've shown anyone. He was pulled out of his reverie by his wife's voice, and he looked up quickly.

"There are no coincidences in a murder investigation. That's what you always say." She wasn't looking at him. She paced slowly, watching the carpet pass beneath her with unseeing eyes. "Hammel never left a mark on me. There never a bruise or laceration that I could use as evidence to prove the abuse…" She reached the end of the room and turned around again, still pacing. "And there was no physical proof that he was murdered. At least, nothing that a medical examiner or pathologist would've found. If I'd been able to see the remains…"

"Bones… I know I've said that in the past, about coincidences, but-"

"You think the deaths of these men are coincidental?"

"I don't know, but-"

"There are too many similarities, Booth. The connection to the foster system, to _me,_ the fire, the lack of evidence, the lack of anyone coming forward to claim the remains, the cremation… They died less than a month apart. That can't be coincidence."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean that it was Max. Both of these guys were scum. Bastards. Sick fucks who got their rocks off by abusing children. I'm sure you weren't the only one. These assholes could've had dozens of enemies," he insisted. Brennan was silent for a few moments. She had stopped pacing and was standing a few feet away, looking at her husband with a tortured expression. She wanted so badly to believe in her father's innocence. _Am I a fool for hoping? Am I that naive?_

"Do you think he could've killed them?" she asked, dreading the answer she saw in his dark eyes. He clenched his jaw and considered his response carefully before speaking.

" _Could_ he have done it? Yes. Do I think he _did_? ...I don't know. My gut says that Max would go after the people who hurt his kids, but without any proof, it's just a hunch. A theory that we probably won't be able to prove or disprove. So where does that leave us?"

Brennan cringed and sank onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands, and Booth moved to crouch down in front of her, pulling her hands away gently. He held them firmly and waited until she met his gaze with watery blue eyes.

"Tell me what you're thinking, baby."

"I want to believe that he didn't do it. That this is all just a strange coincidence, but… That night that he stayed in the guest room, he answered some of my questions about the time he'd been away. The years following their disappearance as well as the months after he left with Russ last December. I specifically asked him what he'd been doing during the time he'd been away since Christmas, and he said something that I didn't understand at the time. But now…"

"What was it?"

"He said that he was 'making some things right.' And that he wasn't going to say anything more than that about it." Booth felt a chill wash over him at the implication. "He could've very easily been referring to this. The timeline fits, and he certainly has the motive… Though I'm not sure how he would've known the details of the abuse well enough to mimic anything. That part doesn't make sense." Booth lifted a hand to her cheek and gazed at her for a moment before speaking.

"Let's go home, Bones. If you want to keep digging, we can, but the local cops aren't going to give us anything else right now. I can check out criminal records and all that from DC."

"I think we should check to see if any of my other foster parents have died under suspicious circumstances. I don't want to believe that Max could've done this, but I have to be honest with myself. He's a murderer. And even if I can forgive him at some point, I'll never be able to rebuild a relationship with him if this is hanging over my head."

Booth nodded his acceptance and leaned forward to press a long, soothing kiss to her lips.

"We'll figure it out, Bones. One way or another," he promised. Brennan took a deep, cleansing breath and kissed him once more.

"Okay," she agreed. "Let's go home."

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 **The End (for now)**

 **As I've said many times before, this is the second of three installments for this series. The next story will pick up pretty much where we left off with this one. I apologize for the slight (?) cliffhanger, but in the end, I really felt it was necessary to give the reader a taste of what is to come. As Booth has already realized, this will be quite a 'rabbit hole' they're going down, and season three will still be interwoven into the next story as well.**

 **There will be another break between stories, like last time. This one will probably be a little longer due to real life interferences, but I have absolutely no intention of abandoning this series. I've put way too much work into it to just walk away and leave it unfinished, so please don't worry about that. I _will_ be back, I promise.**

 **I want to give a super big thank you to my wonderful beta, chosenname. She has proofed every chapter of this fic, she's given me great feedback on the character development hurdles I was struggling with, and she's been a fantastic sounding board every step of the way.**

 **Thank you also to everyone who has reviewed, tweeted, PMed, favorited, followed, etc. Your feedback really does mean a lot, and I'll never get tired of reading it!**

 **Love to all, and as always, please REVIEW! *smooch***


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